How Winter Came To Be
by meetmeinstlouie
Summary: A lonely shepherd, a strange woman, a proud youth and his gentle sister. Love. Loss. Heaven and earth. Gods and mortals, and what happens when they collide. The story about an encounter near a small village proves that there are lasting consequences for both mortals and the divine alike. "...no family is ever what it seems from the outside."
1. Prologue

**A/N: Dear friends, here is a new story for a new year. Many thanks to ChelsieSouloftheAbbey, who read early drafts of this and encouraged me to continue.**

 **The main theme of this story is inspired by a tale from Greek mythology, supplemented with details from another. I found as I was outlining that the ancient stories would provide merely the frame for this fic; after all, the major inspiration behind everything I've posted here is from Julian Fellowes, Downton Abbey and my own wild imagination. Suffice it to say this story is very, very AU.**

 **I intend to provide a listing of everyone involved in this story and their mythological counterpart (if they have one) at the end of the story. I didn't want to clutter up the beginning. Also, I think it's more fun to let the readers guess who people are.**

 **On a personal note, the style of writing in this story is much closer to what I have written in the past, before the discovery of DA fanfiction. If I were either of the Carsons, it would be either a set of keys or a decanter. Please give reviews and feedback, but be gentle; this is dear to my heart.**

 **You can now find me on Tumblr, as BelovedRival. I appreciate any and all reblogs and reviews.**

 **This first chapter is a prologue. The musical inspiration is "Before Time", from Thomas Bergersen's album** _ **Sun**_ **.**

 **Happy 2016! Chelsie on!**

 **-meetmeinstlouie**

* * *

 _In a village in the north, there grows a flower. The rarest of plants, it blooms after the first snow. It brings color throughout the cold days when everything else is white. When the first sign of green appears in spring, it fades._

 _Not even the wise can say why._

 _No one seems to know when it first appeared in the village. But if you ask the people there, they will tell you a very old story._

 _They say it is true._

 _They say when the world was young, there was no winter. In the spring, the earth burst forth with life; in summer, all things grew; and then in autumn, the leaves fell and all living things rested before they woke again in spring._

 _The first year that winter appeared, it was unforeseen. The cold and snow were harsh. Nothing grew._

 _The people were relieved when spring came again. From then on, the four seasons passed in a regular cycle._

 _It was some years after winter first arrived that the flower began to bud. It appeared after the first snowfall, dazzling the village with its beauty during the bleakness of the season._

 _And so it has ever been, down to this day._

 _Scholars and skeptics say the winter and summer, the flowers that bloom in spring and those in the autumn, can all be explained by natural causes. They say the winter flower is no different._

 _But when the thunder shakes the ground in summer, and when the first frost appears, people remember. When the earth sprouts a panoply of color in springtime or there is a bountiful harvest, storytellers sit under the stars or by their fires and relive the tale again._

 _As the world gets older, fewer and fewer people believe it. But even if no one alive will listen, still the winter will come, and the flower will bloom._

 _I will tell you, and you may decide if you believe it or not._

 _This is the story of the flower, and of the love that brought it to life._

 _This is how winter came to be._


	2. Divine and Mortal

_**Remember, I will still be here**_

 _ **As long as you hold me in your memory**_

 _ **Remember, when your dreams have ended**_

 _ **Time can be transcended**_

 _ **Just remember me**_

 _ **I am the one star that keeps burning, so brightly**_

 _ **It is the last light to fade into the rising sun**_

 _ **I'm with you**_

 _ **Whenever you tell my story**_

 _ **For I am all I've done…**_

 **-Josh Groban, "Remember"**

* * *

 _She was silent._

 _The entire hall was listening, waiting for her voice._

 _But she had nothing to say._

 _Her fate was sealed, and there was nothing she could do to change it._

" _Speak."_

 _Her father spoke gently, but when the King gave an order, it had to be obeyed. She looked into his face. Searching._

" _Why?"_

 _His lip curled down, and his eyes flashed. Far away, a crackle of lightning struck the ground. "Because I will have peace. You will marry Victor, and war will be averted."_

 _She glanced at Victor, standing to the King's right, her left. He was as unshakeable as ever. His red face impassive, his scanty beard dirty with ash. Even from where she stood she could smell the faint whiff of sulfur._

" _Why him?" she asked defiantly. "There was more than one suitor. Surely you could give me the choice-"_

" _The_ _ **choice**_ _?" He leaned forward on the throne. Behind her, she heard Beryl shifting in her seat. "If I gave you the choice, war would be a certainty! You know this," he pointed at her. "I will not have needless destruction because of your foolishness! It was a disaster when you were found with Marcas!"_

 _She burned with humiliation, keenly aware of everyone's eyes. The event was past, but the memory still stung. "Yes, I was foolish. But now you bind me to a husband I do not choose, one who does not love me-"_

" _Love?" He laughed. "Love is fickle, it changes constantly._ _ **You**_ _know that more than anyone." He lowered his voice to a more tender tone. "Daughter, Victor respects you. He will come to cherish you."_

 _Snorting, she tossed her head like a spirited horse. "He cherishes the work of his hands above everything else. Oh yes," she hissed, glaring at her father, "I know of his tastes. He will not change, not even after he marries me!"_

 _Her intended gripped his hammer tighter, but said nothing. She resisted the urge to leap across the room and rip it from his hand._

 _ **He never goes anywhere without it.**_

 _The King sat back. He surveyed Victor then her, his finger on his temple. She knew he knew she was right._

" _I cannot change him."_

 _It was not a surprise that he said it. The King, more than anyone present, knew of the fixed nature of the court. No one changed unless it was of their own will, and those circumstances were rare._

 _She tossed her hands in the air. "So I am to live with a husband who does what he pleases, who does not love?_ _Me_ _?"_

 _There was a general air of agreement around her, whispers and nods among the assembly. She ignored Marcas who smirked, off to her right._

 _No doubt he was enjoying her disgrace. She wished she could have been more temperate with him._

 _But temperance, when it came to matters of the heart, eluded her._

 _If not for Marcas, whispered a voice in her heart, you would not have your daughter._

 _That had been an unexpected result of her liaison with him. But she was sure marriage to Victor would have no good effect._

" _All of you, leave us. We will talk alone." At the King's command, the hall emptied. Victor bowed before the throne and disappeared. He did not look at her._

 _ **No doubt he is eager to get back to work. That is all he ever does.**_

 _Beryl gave her one glance, mouthing caution as she left with her husband._

 _When they all had gone, the King rose, holding out his hand. "Come with me."_

 _They walked out of the back of the hall, where mountains and valleys, plains and the sea were laid out before them. She took a deep breath, feeling the wind._

" _What would you have me do?" he asked quietly. "You must be wed, it is past time. You know this."_

 _Her eyes burned. She focused on a green valley in the distance. Thinking of who lived there, and the lives they led. Free to live as they chose. Free to love as they chose._

" _It has always been your fate to give love," he reminded her. "Never to have it for yourself." He touched her hand resting on the wall._

" _I know." The thought gave her no comfort. "Is it not strange? That the gift I give, I cannot keep for myself. Those who live in the plains, in the hills, by the sea, they have nothing compared with us, but they can choose who to love. To marry."_

 _He squeezed her hand, smiling. "They have their own customs, as we do. And you would find more than one maiden upset with her father over his choice of husband."_

" _True," she said, "But most daughters at least have a choice. I have witnessed it when I walk among them, unseen."_

 _The King stroked his beard. "If you were not hidden, if you lived among them as I and others have, you would see that choosing love can be as painful as living without it."_

 _She turned her head sharply. "I do not need to live among them to know that!"_

 _Too often the gift she gave was wasted, or withheld. Or became a source of pain. She never intended it to be that. But she could not control those who received it. A young woman, beautiful, but vain. How many men's hearts had she broken? A quiet and decent man, unable to show his love. A strong woman who deserved a good man, but had yet to meet the right one. A good and faithful man who toiled under the burden of his losses._

 _Love thwarted, love twisted, love denied._

" _You have never wanted to live there," her father reminded her, bringing her out of her thoughts. "You never desired it."_

 _The thought took root in her mind. To leave the palaces and great halls and high mountains. To walk the plains and hills. To dip her feet in the sea._

 _To live among them. As one of them, for a time._

 _Perhaps she could learn how to live without love from those who had already done so. Perhaps then her fate would not seem so dark._

 _Her heart raced, and her eyes shone._

" _I desire it now," she said softly, watching the distant sea. The King looked at her fully._

" _Do you? Truly? Well," he rubbed his full beard, the different hues of color glinting inside it. "Perhaps there_ _ **is**_ _something I can do."_

" _What is that?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed. "You do not need to do anything."_

" _If you wish to live among them, then you will have to be disguised," he explained. "They would recognize you immediately. You will have to be like them, not as you are here. You do not know them as I do," he said at her inquisitive look. "There is kindness, but also cruelty." He paused. "I will send you to a village in the north. They love you there." Lightly stroking her hair, he sighed. "How long will you be away? I must tell Victor."_

 _She thought hard. Too long, and he would reject it. Too short, and she would not see enough. "A year?"_

 _He laughed out loud, kissing her head. "That is not a long time. But I agree. Stay a year, and at the end of it, if you want more time, ask. But you will have to return eventually." He tilted her chin up to look at him. "And when you do, you_ _ **will**_ _marry Victor. Do you understand?"_

 _Nodding, she agreed. "I understand." She could not change that. But she would have some time, at least, to live and explore without the burden of marriage. She raised an eyebrow. "Father, you said they love me in the village. How do you know their feelings have not changed? Surely they are fickle," she teased._

" _Not about you," he grinned. "That is all_ _your_ _doing. You gave them love, and they have not relinquished it towards you. They honor beauty as well. So you should be quite content there."_

" _I intend to be," she said, folding her arms together. His expression grew puzzled._

" _You and I hardly ever come to an agreement so quickly…" he turned around. "I should have known."_

 _Just inside of the door to the hall, her daughter watched them intently._

 _Her heart contracted as though someone had clenched a fist around it. "Harmony," she whispered, "You should not be here. The King ordered everyone to leave."_

" _I had to see you," the raven-haired beauty made her way across the terrace, into her welcoming arms. "When there is conflict between any of us, I must make my presence known. But especially when my mother is involved." She glanced up at the King. "I am truly sorry. I did not mean to disobey you."_

" _Oh, very well child," he said, defeated. "I would not keep you from your mother." He stood quietly aside while the two embraced._

 _She held her beloved daughter in her arms and kissed her head. It would be difficult to be away from her. But Harmony would not be alone. She laughed._

" _Perhaps the King is right about it being past time for my marriage, if not about the choice of husband," She looked at her father, who merely raised an eyebrow. "Where I am going I doubt it is customary for daughters to be married before their mothers."_

" _Yes," Harmony fondly touched her hair. "But I did not find it necessary to live among the people before my husband and I wed. I will send him to visit you sometimes. Perhaps I will come and see you myself!"_

 _She touched her child's face. "But not right away," she warned, as much as she would look forward to seeing her daughter and son-in-law. "I wish to be as one of the people, and I can hardly do that if I have regular visitors." She gently took Harmony's hands from around her neck._

" _There is something else you must know before you leave," the King said. "If you reveal yourself as you are here, you_ _ **must**_ _return at once. Whether you have been there one hour, or one year, or ten. So do not do it lightly. Only if your life would be in mortal danger, or someone close to you. Then show yourself. But_ _only_ _then."_

" _I won't show myself," she said stoutly. "I want to stay for a while. And not just to avoid marriage," she gave him a pointed glance. "I want to see how the people live, especially without love."_

" _Then go," he embraced her. "Go with my blessing. Live among them. Learn." He gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead. "There is a small hut on a hill south of the village, beneath my tree. Everything you need will be there. And be mindful," he cautioned. "I cannot say for certain, but once you have lived there for a time, your fate may become entwined with theirs." He put an arm around Harmony. Her daughter raised her hand in farewell._

 _She raised her hands at the moment of their parting. "I will miss you, my sweet child. Thank you, Father." The air around them shimmered, and her vision grew blurry. "Wait!" she called suddenly, remembering. "Will you tell Beryl where I've gone?" It would not do to forget her oldest friend._

" _Yes," The King answered, his voice distant. "She will miss you. As will I." They vanished. The very air turned gold, then white._

* * *

A moment later, she blinked at the view before her.

It was a new world.

A small lake woke under the gray dawn. The sun was not yet up.

She peered into the water. Her own reflection was a comfort. "Not much has changed, I see," she smiled at herself before splashing the surface. It was cold.

Several purple posies grew along the edge of the lake, barely pushed through the earth. Smiling, she picked a few and continued walking along the path through the trees. The morning fog was heavy.

"It _is_ beautiful here," she murmured to herself. Ahead of her, the path led out of the trees and down a hill. The fog cleared somewhat as she left the lake behind. She looked to her right, and saw a hut farther up the hill. It rested under the mighty boughs of a gigantic oak tree.

Her home.

Deciding to explore the small house later, she continued on. She passed several huts where the inhabitants still seemed to be asleep. A boy milking a cow did wave at her as she passed by, and she enthusiastically waved back.

She didn't notice him gawking at her, forgetting his animal, as she ascended another hill.

The path divided at the top, the one to the left leading down to the village, its buildings just visible. The path to the right continued up the hill. She followed it as it dipped slightly through two rows of pines. Ahead was a circle of pillars. Two were crowned with flaming torches, marking an entrance through the lessening fog.

* * *

Charles slumped against his shepherd's crook. He yawned, shaking his head, fighting off sleep.

 _Only a little while longer. Then I can go home and rest._

He forced himself to stand at attention, breathing deeply. Not every man was asked by the priestesses to stand watch at Eala's shrine. It was a distinct honor, a mark of his piety to the goddess.

Of course, he mused, not every man was able. His friend John, after being wounded fighting for Robert the king, could not walk without a limp. But John was not the best example. Charles knew even if his friend _was_ able to stand watch all night, he would never be asked to serve. Everyone knew of his doubt. His lack of faith.

Not like Charles.

Nothing could shake him.

Of course, none of his friends could see into his inner thoughts, either. Or see his tears when he wept in front of the burning candles in the evening.

He did not doubt Eala's existence, or any of the other gods and goddesses who ruled over them. But he did think they either enjoyed wrecking his life, or did not care at all.

He did not find either possibility comforting.

 _I have been faithful to you. I have prayed, given you sacrifice, worshipped you as I ought from my birth. And how have all of you repaid me?_

By taking away nearly everyone he ever loved.

 _Father, taken by the Sea-God in a storm. Mother, weakened by grief, gone to Elysium before I became a man. My sister, dead giving birth, her child with her._

He felt tears coming, but didn't stop them. The sky brightened from black to a dull gray. As soon as the sun hit the first pillar, he would extinguish the torches and go home.

 _James, Robert's cousin and heir. Speared through the heart right in front of me in battle. Alice, my wife, mother of our children, wasted away by a fever. She died in my arms._

It was easy for Eala, he thought. She dispensed love and beauty where she saw fit, but didn't have to live with the consequences of her actions.

Love was not always a beautiful gift. When it was taken away, the pain was unbearable.

 _Do you hear when Daisy cries for her mother?_

 _It's no wonder Thomas hates you._

He could not blame his son for his anger. He did worry about his impiety. The youth had openly mocked the priestesses at the last Harvest Festival. Charles had had to appeal to them personally to keep them from sentencing Thomas to exile. He suspected it was that, as well as Robert's plea, that had persuaded them not to deal a heavy punishment.

His son was away now, serving in the king's house. Charles hoped he was learning much. And that he was keeping his more extreme views to himself.

Daisy was gone from home as well. She lived with the weaver and his wife, learning and working under their care.

Charles missed them both desperately. Often lonely, his apprentices were not with him all the time. And Alfred and Andrew, good lads that they were, were not his children. He thought ruefully that perhaps the sheep and goats _were_ his children. But they couldn't talk to him.

He was sure his loneliness deepened his pain.

Taking another wife had been suggested to him. But the process was fraught with complications.

The first time it had all been straightforward. His parents, with the matchmaker, had found him Alice. They had been happy enough. It had not been a great love match, but they had grown very fond of each other. He missed her company, and had genuinely mourned her death.

He had put off the matchmaker's offer for the first year, claiming a broken heart. But the last two years, Martha had been more and more vehement. He sighed. He could not put marriage off forever. As much as he wanted to.

The wars, both the one in his youth as well as the next one ten years ago, had buried many men. There were many more women in the country. He knew it was likely he would end up with a widow. Or even worse, a young girl. He knew neither Daisy nor especially Thomas, were keen to have a stepmother.

The thought of another woman in his bed was tempting, he had to admit. But-and he felt guilty even thinking of it-he wanted more than just a wife. As sweet as Alice was, she had never challenged him. He could be intimidating, he knew. But he also knew he needed someone who could check his more stubborn impulses.

As foolish as it felt, he had begun to pray to Eala to send him a mate who not only would fulfill his wish, but also be someone he could openly love. And who would love him, and Thomas and Daisy.

And it would be nice if she were pretty, too.

It felt ridiculous to ask the goddess of love for even half of it. But he did, despite the fact that he was no longer young. The growing silver hairs he glimpsed in his reflection in the lake told him that.

Eala probably thought him far too bold for his own good. He was sure he was better off alone with his children, anyway.

Charles was proud of them. His daughter was the light of his life, a sweet little nymph. And as much as his son perplexed him, he loved him dearly.

 _Headstrong. Certain he's right almost all the time._

He sniffed, laughing, and wiped his eyes. Yes, Thomas was undoubtedly his. When the new moon arrived, his boy would be home for a few days. Perhaps he should talk to him, tell him of his own questions about the gods. Take him to the temple.

Even the priestesses agreed that merely asking questions was not a sign of blasphemy. Only curiosity.

 _They were divided the last time they argued about it._

 _Better to talk to Isobel._

 _Violet might want to banish both of us._

He shivered slightly, pulling his cloak around him tighter. The long rest of autumn was nearing its end, and the colors of spring had started to show. Everyone looked forward to the sun, and warmer days.

The continuous cycle of seasons, the sun and moon, were a comfort to him. They were symbols of the gods. They meant that all was right in the world. He prayed he would never see a red moon like the one that appeared before the wars. Or the sea in full froth.

His life was difficult enough, let alone when the gods warred with each other.

The sky in the east was beginning to lighten. He shifted his cold feet, enjoying the sounds of the birds waking up. There would be rain later in the day. He could tell by the scent in the air.

Flickering, the flames from the torches cast shaking shadows through the fog. He squinted at the far side of the circle. He could almost glimpse the tall pillars.

A movement by the one on the right woke him up completely. He shifted the crook into his hand.

Someone was by the entrance.

His eyes narrowed. _They wouldn't_ _ **dare**_ _. Not on the sacred soil._

Only on the holy days did anyone go in, and only by the entrance. And with great reverence. He leaned forward, his left hand on a pillar. He was careful to not let even a strand of hair on his head penetrate the circle.

No matter what questions he had, he would abide by the rituals.

Not so the intruder.

It was a woman.

She blithely walked through two pillars as though they meant _nothing_. Turning in a circle, she surveyed the entire setting with interest.

His mouth was agape at her brazenness. _Not even through the way in._

At least, that was what he told himself.

The sight before him made his knees buckle. He clutched the pillar for support.

Her shapely figure moved as gracefully as if she were in a dance. When her back was facing him, he could not stop himself from staring at the curve of her hips, her strong legs. She hummed and turned her head slightly, making the angle of her neck more prominent.

He was nearly overcome with desire to take her into his arms and kiss her.

Never before had his restraint been so elusive.

 _Eala herself would be jealous of her beauty_.

He was shaken out of his reverie at the thought of the goddess, remembering his duty. "YOU!" he bellowed at the stranger. "What are you _doing_ in there!? Get OUT! _NOW!_ "

She started, completely surprised by his presence. Behind her, the sky glowed orange as the sun rose. The fog faded away.

The morning light illumined the rich red tones of her hair. Her straight nose and piercing eyes. Her parted lips. His breath caught, and he stood still, half-dropping his crook. Her eyes widened, and she gasped. A rosy blush spread over her creamy skin.

The sight of the color in her cheeks made his heart skip several beats. He did his best to ignore it. "Don't you _know_ ," he called, his voice unsteady, "you're not supposed to be in there!" He swallowed. "I have to take you to the temple for violating the shrine!"

 _No matter how magnificent you are._

She tilted her head, almost as though she did not understand him.

But then she _smiled_ at him.

He stopped breathing entirely. His mind was enveloped in a haze.

Then she whirled around, stumbling a bit on the dewy grass, and ran through the pillared entrance. His mind cleared an instant later.

"STOP!" He shouted. "Come _back_ here!" Losing sight of her, he ran around the perimeter of the circle. She was barely visible through the trees, dashing away down the hill as fast as she could.

He chased after her.


	3. Elsie

**A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews and reblogs, etc. I'm posting this chapter in a rush, so if there are any glaring mistakes, let me know and I'll fix them later. Thanks again for your support!**

* * *

When she was able to see through the fog surrounding the pillars, she recognized the place immediately.

It was _hers_.

A simple portrayal of her garden at home, yes, but it had obviously been planted and cared for with reverence. She was unable to resist going inside for a better look.

The grass was cut short. She could make out wispy vines on the pillars, the roses not yet blooming in the early spring.

A man started shouting at her, completely throwing her off-balance. He was undeniably angry; she could feel his ire from where she stood. But mixed with his outrage was the distinctive hint of desire.

It was not surprising. Even when she had walked unseen, her aura was difficult to withstand.

Vanity had nothing to do with it.

 _Mortals cannot resist the Goddess of Love._

She turned toward the opposite side of the circle across from the entrance. In the sudden brightness of the morning, she saw the man clearly on the other side of a pillar.

His sandaled feet were set apart, supporting muscular legs beneath his tunic and cloak. One hand clutched a shepherd's crook. His shoulders were broad, and she could easily imagine him carrying a stray lamb or a child.

Then she saw his face.

Curly black hair, with silver strands glittering through. An aquiline nose between two eyes crowned by prominent eyebrows. Lines decorated his face, both from laughter, she deemed, as well as sadness. He had no beard.

She could not stop the gasp that escaped her lips. Heat flooded her face, and her heart trembled within her.

 _That has never happened to me before._

In her previous liaisons, there had been the allure of a handsome face here, a well-shaped form there. But never this immediate charisma.

He was calling to her again. She had to force herself to concentrate on what he was saying. When he threatened to take her to the temple for violating Eala's shrine, at first she was indifferent to his warning.

Then she was amused. Even as she smiled at him, she knew she should not. _He is only doing his duty. I should not laugh at him._

But neither did she want to be taken to the temple.

So she turned and ran.

Straight out through the entrance and back down the path. Had she been at home, she would have been across the kingdom within moments. But from his shouting behind her, she knew he was close, and gaining on her.

She wondered what he would do if he caught her.

 _I don't want to hurt him. Or go home so soon. I only just arrived._

As she crested the hill where the two paths crossed, she veered off slightly, into the long grass. She hoped to throw him off.

It was a mistake.

The grass was heavy and wet from dew, and her bare foot caught part of a hole that she did not see. She cried out, falling heavily onto her side.

Moments later the man caught up with her.

"Are you hurt?" The deep timbre of his voice, closer to her ears, was very familiar. But the pain that hit her at the same time made it impossible to know where she had heard it before.

She rolled over and sat up, her breath hissing through her teeth. "My ankle…"

Pain shot up her leg when she tried to bend it. The man crouched down, breathing hard from the chase. She could hear his heartbeat.

She gasped aloud when he examined her foot. She was actually glad of the throbbing from her swelling ankle.

His touch made her dizzy.

"I don't think it's broken, but I had better take you to the healer. Just to be sure," he said, looking up at her. For the first time, he noticed the color of her eyes. Dark blue, like midnight without the moon. His heart sped up.

"I don't need the healer," she said instinctively, swallowing hard. _If this is my reaction to every man I meet, I might as well leave._ "I just need…to rest."

" _Rest?_ " he frowned. "You need the healer. Here, take my hand-"

"No," she insisted, twisting away, her long tunic tangled beneath her. She was torn between wanting to touch him and needing to stay away from him. "Please leave me alone."

He could not believe her stubbornness. Or how she was even more beautiful up close. Holding his temper, he squeezed his fingers around his crook as he got to his feet.

"Can you stand?" he asked, knowing the answer. "If you can, then I will take you to the temple. If not, you will go first to the healer, then the temple."

She gingerly rolled onto her good leg, pushing off the ground. Almost managing to stand, she set her left foot down. The pain made her cry out. She fell sideways. He caught her, dropping the crook.

He gripped her arms as she tried to regain her balance. It felt as though her touch burned his skin. He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

"You c-can _not_ walk," he stammered. "I'll have to carry you to Richard." Trying not to think too much about how she felt against him, he lifted the crook with his foot, letting her pick it up, and hoisted her into his arms.

It took all his willpower to master the hunger that flowed through his blood.

She looked away from him as they went down the hill.

 _I should not have come. Nothing good can come of this._

He supported her as if she weighed little. She had one arm draped across his shoulders and could feel his pulse in his neck. Every time he took a step, her body rubbed closer against his. She bit her lip to suppress a moan.

 _Am I divine, or is he? Control yourself, Eala._

"My name is Charles," he said, breaking the silence. "I live south of here, on the other side of the hill."

"I…I'm…Elsie," she whispered, hoping he thought she was quiet because of her discomfort. The touch of his strong arms supporting her was maddening. It would be nothing, nothing at all to slide her hand up the back of his neck into his hair and…

 _Stop that._

 _My purpose here is not to seduce a mortal._

 _No matter how tempting he is._

"Ah," he said, his face red with exertion. "Elsie. A rare form of the goddess's name. Is _that_ why you thought you could walk into her shrine?"

She bent her head, biting back a grin. "I do not think Eala would mind."

"She certainly would!" he cried, shifting her weight slightly. "How can you say such a thing? The garden is _hers_ , not yours!" He shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed. "Do you think this is amusing? To defy the gods?"

Her impertinence made him angrier, but he was glad of it. Otherwise he would have been tormented with desire for her.

"No," she said breathlessly. She did not want to rouse Charles further, but his expression made her want to tease him. "But she enjoys her garden far away, why should we not enjoy this one here?"

"That-that is beside the _point!_ " He stomped onto a dirt path at the base of the hill, the village looming in the distance. "The garden here serves as a symbol of her home, you know that!"

She found his bluster endearing. And a bit irritating. _He is much too serious._

"I do know," she said. "But surely if I did something really wrong, the goddess would show her anger straight off."

He rolled his eyes, harrumphing under his breath. "The gods are busy, they don't wait for us to disobey their rules, and then punish us on the spot!"

"Oh I see," she said. She was torn between vexation and amusement. "You seem to know a lot about them. Do you know one personally?"

 _Your father would not hesitate to strike you with a thunderbolt for that._

"Of course not," he huffed, glaring at her under his bushy eyebrows. "You would do well to mind your tongue, Elsie. It is not wise to laugh at the gods." He continued walking toward the village in silence.

She bit her tongue. Were all men like this? Both attractive and infuriating? His condescending manner seemed outlandish, especially for a simple shepherd.

Yet the echo of the way her name sounded on his lips made her heart skip.

The round wooden and earth huts were visible in the brightening morning. Here and there they could hear a bark of a dog, see smoke rising from someone's fire. The pungent odor of horse dung wafted in the slight breeze. Goats mewled at them from a pen. A few people were stirring, but it was still early. Off to their right, a small river flowed south. A woman stood near the bank washing garments.

The path wound behind several huts on their left. Between them, Elsie glimpsed a larger building at the western edge of the village. Next to it was a stone building with pillars at the front. She swallowed.

 _For mortals, they certainly replicate the King's palace well._

Charles was glad of the breeze. Feeling a trickle of sweat running down his temple, he shook his head slightly. The woman was not heavy, but Richard lived on the far northern side of the village.

And he had not slept all night. His stomach growled.

"Is the healer's home much further?" she asked, as if she could read his mind.

"No," his breath was short. "Where do you live? You're not from Downton, are you?"

For the first time he wondered where she had come from.

"I live in the hut beneath the oak tree. South of the village. I just arrived here this morning," she explained.

" _You're_ the new shepherdess?" He nearly dropped her in surprise. The older lady had left to go live with her daughter in Merton. He thought Cassandra would have gotten a nephew or grandson to look after her flocks. Not someone like Elsie.

She was definitely not what he expected.

"Yes," she said. It seemed safest to not contradict him.

"Then we are neighbors," Charles said. _This may not be a good thing._ "My flocks often graze on the hills nearby. When the former mistress lived there, it happened often."

"Then I will not mind either," she said. _It would be better if you did._ "As long as mine can wander on your land."

"Of course," Charles replied, feeling his face warm. For some reason she sounded as if she were flirting with him. "We're here," he nodded at the structure before them. He was glad to see a wisp of smoke rising from the hole in the thatched roof. "Here, if you will keep your arm around my neck-" He went to set her down gently on her good foot, trying not to feel her body against his and failing miserably.

She stumbled but kept her balance, one hand on the crook, the other gripped around his arm. Her face was aflame. But it was nothing to the storm going on inside her. She looked up at him, suddenly aware of how very tall he was. And broad.

 _Who_ _is_ _she?_ The way she looked at him from beneath her eyelids made him almost forget how irreverent she had been earlier. He had to remind himself to breathe.

The door opened. They took a step apart.

"Good morning, Charles," Richard said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I-" He stopped and gaped at Elsie.

She was prepared for his reaction. Keeping her eyes on the ground, she wished she could do something to cure the healer of his embarrassment. He was not bad-looking and was a decent man. But he had none of the effect on her that Charles had.

She wondered why.

"Richard," Charles said, aware of the awkward silence, "this is Elsie. She took Cassandra's place."

The healer collected himself and invited them inside. He quickly examined Elsie's injury, and assured her it was only a sprain. While he carefully bound her ankle, his niece Ivy scurried to build the fire.

"Would you like something to eat, Mistress?" she asked as she handed Charles a small loaf of bread.

Elsie looked up from floor. "Yes, thank you. You're very kind." The young girl smiled and gave her another loaf wrapped in a cloth. She took a bite of the warm bread, surprised by the taste.

"Honey?" she asked Ivy, who nodded. "This is very good!"

"Ivy is an excellent baker," Richard said proudly. "I never go hungry." He finished with Elsie's ankle and stood up, moving to the corner of the room where assorted herbs and spices hung from the timbers of the wooden roof. "Elsie, I will give you some herbs to take with you. If you have any pain, mix a pinch of it in wine. Your ankle will be rather tender for a few days."

"Thank you, Richard," she said, grateful for his assistance. Then a sudden worrying thought struck her. "How am I to watch the flock?"

Charles swallowed the last of his bread, brushing his hands. "No need to worry. My apprentices have been looking out for them since Cassandra left. I'll make sure they help you until you're back on your feet."

Elsie exhaled in relief and thanked him. Ivy helped her to stand up while the two men talked quietly in the corner.

"Where did you meet her? Did you know she was coming today?" Richard ground the mixture with a pestle.

"No, I didn't know she was coming today." Charles hesitated, glancing across the room. Ivy said something to Elsie and she laughed. It was a beautiful sound. He reached down to pick up the cat by his leg. "I…uh, met her in the meadow east of my pasture. She was…chasing after an errant ram that got tangled in a thicket." _That sounds believable._

 _I hope._

He was not sure why he did not tell his friend the truth.

"Oh?" Richard asked in surprise. "I thought you were standing guard at the shrine last night."

Charles cleared his throat, feeling hot. "I was," he said, unable to return his friend's gaze. His belly clenched. "I was on my way home."

Richard gave him a long look, but nodded. "I see." He handed Elsie a pouch of the dried herbs. "This should last you for a while, but if you need more, send one of the lads to fetch it."

She strung the pouch around her neck. Ivy helped her to the door while Richard led two horses from behind his hut. Charles let the cat go. It streaked past the two women to the outside.

"After I take Elsie home, I'll have Alfred bring the chariot back later this morning," Charles said, stifling a yawn. Ivy helped Elsie into it, not letting go until she gripped the side securely. They said goodbye and Charles guided the horses through the middle of the village on a wide path. More people were out and about. Elsie pulled the hood of her tunic over her head. It was too warm for it, but she already felt several the stares of people as they rode by.

When they passed the temple, she expected Charles to stop. But he kept going. She could not help looking over her shoulder at the girls assembling before its doors. They were singing a hymn, their voices clear. Charles did not look back. Elsie let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

They had left the village and were going up a hill before she spoke.

"Why didn't you take me to the temple? And why did you lie to Richard?" She knew of anyone that he would be the least likely to defer punishment. Or withhold the truth from those he respected.

He winced, and she felt his aversion to the word. He sighed. "I suppose...I thought your sprained ankle was punishment enough," he finally said. A slight breeze blew through his hair. "And if I told Richard the truth, he would go to the temple and tell the priestesses about you." He glanced at her. "Would you like me to take you back there? So you can make a sacrifice to Eala?"

She fought a grin. "No thank you. Perhaps another time."

He actually smiled back. "I didn't think you would."

They had crested the hill and were heading down the other side. Cursing the small space in the chariot, Elsie turned a little, facing away from him. She took a deep breath.

 _Why does he affect me so?_

"Does Richard stand guard at the shrine as well?" she asked quickly. "If he is as firm as you are in regards to service to the goddess, it would not surprise me."

"He is devoted," Charles said, clicking his tongue at the horses. "But he does not often stand guard. He is the only healer in this part of the kingdom, and he never knows when someone will call on him. Actually," he chuckled, "I should say he is devoted to the goddess, but everyone knows he is particularly devoted to one of the priestesses in particular."

"Really!" Elsie gasped. She covered her mouth with her hand, laughing. Even though she already knew the answer, she wanted to know more. "Who is it?"

"Isobel," Charles said, nodding at a woman and several children walking along the road. "She's a widow, and her son was the king's heir. When he died a few years ago, she went into the temple." A shadow passed over his face.

"Matthew," Elsie murmured. She gripped the side of the chariot until her knuckles were white. _I will never understand why Father let his brother have his way there. It was not just._

Stunned, Charles accidently pulled on the reins, slowing the horses. He recovered himself and urged the animals on. "You've heard the story then." Elsie nodded. "It was a heavy loss. His son newly born…I'm not sure the Lady Mary has ever gotten over it."

Riding on in silence, they stopped near the path that led to the shrine. Charles ran and extinguished the torches, reminding himself to replenish the oil lamps. He hoped no one had walked by and noticed the torches still lit. The sun was well up.

He walked behind Elsie as she hobbled into her hut. She gritted her teeth, obviously in pain, but refused to let him help her. He promised to send one of the lads to check on her later in the day before finally going home.

Even though he was exhausted, it took him a long time to fall asleep.

* * *

Elsie closed the door of her hut with a sigh. She leaned her back against the solid oak. Surveying the room, she saw that, as her father had said, everything she would need was provided.

 _I have never baked bread, but at least now I know someone I can ask._

She sank down on a sheepskin by the fire and stretched her leg out, her ankle throbbing. She rekindled the low fire. Staring into the small flames, she thought of Victor.

There were worse consorts than him. Much worse. There was a reason why she had never considered Marcas as a suitable husband. His violent temper being the most important.

But she felt _nothing_ for Victor.

Unlike the mortal man she had met in the flesh only hours ago.

She laid down on her back, staring at the beams above her.

Charles's voice was familiar to her because she had heard it before. Many times. Closing her eyes, she recalled some of his memorable prayers.

The youth of seventeen, the first time he made an offering to her. _Eala, Goddess, Serene Lady, guide my heart. May I see the beauty within, and not be distracted by outward appearances._

The man on the eve of his wedding. _Goddess of pleasure and delight, help me to think of my bride. Make me a gentle lover, I pray._

A heartfelt plea for his wife. _Lady that brings life, please give Alice a living child. She so longs to be a mother. Please give her the desire of her heart. Please…_

The widower who hesitated on his knees before the lit candles. _Beautiful and gracious Lady, Eala…I know I ask too much. But you know my heart. I ask you to send me a wife who will love me, one of strong will, one who can balance my pride with humility. A woman who will unlock the fire in my heart. One who will be a guiding light, a steady hand to hold. A second mother to Thomas, one who will love and understand him and help me to check his rash impulses. A loving mother to Daisy, gentle and kind, one to guide her into womanhood, for I cannot._

 _I know I ask too much. But…please make her beautiful to me, if to no one else. You know I am a simple man, Eala, one of flesh and blood. I desire a full marriage, in heart, body and mind._

 _I ask for your guidance and blessing, Gracious Lady._

Without fail, he had offered prayers every evening to her for himself, for his family, for his friends. No one else anywhere had been more faithful. Sometimes he simply talked to her without the formality of a prayer. She appreciated that. She could always hear prayers better if mortals just _talked_ to her.

Whether he was formal or more relaxed, she had always heard him clearly. He was not perfect, but he was the most forthright of any mortal she had ever known. He had been serious even as a boy. His losses had scarred him and she was all too aware of the fragility of his heart.

She knew she would have to be careful with him. Especially now.

 _Lust is one thing. But I cannot let him fall in love with me. It would break him._

 _He deserves a good wife._

Pressing a hand to her belly, she groaned. The memory of seeing him in the early light, the feel of his arms carrying her…

 _ **I**_ _cannot_ _lust for him._

 _Too late for that, girl._

 _You will simply have to live with it. Or without it, more like._

 _You never had to control it before. You will if you intend to stay for longer than a day._

Beryl would laugh at her.

Living among mortals would be more of a challenge than she had first envisaged. Blowing hair out of her face, Elsie sat up and searched for the larder.

* * *

Charles woke in the late afternoon.

The thin blanket stretching across the room did not keep out the conversation on the other side. From the sound of it, Andrew had just come in from the pasture.

"Don't eat _all_ of it," the sharp voice of May, sister to Charles's neighbor Drake, carried to his ears. She came to the house in the afternoons to cook and sweep the hut. "When the Master wakes up, he will be hungry. He won't take kindly to you eating him out of house and home!"

"Just one more bite-" Charles saw Andrew's shadow shake his hand in the air. "Ouch! You didn't have to slap me!"

Charles got up slowly, his head still feeling heavy. He had slept well once he finally drifted off. He had not dreamed much, although he thought he remembered chasing a red-haired woman by the lake. She had been just out of reach…

"Hello," he said thickly, pulling the blanket aside. His dog, Ve, bounded over to him, licking his hand. He patted the animal on the head. "Something smells good."

"I'm glad you woke up in time, otherwise all you'd get would be the smell," May said, glaring at Andrew. The boy clutched his hand.

"I didn't eat _all_ of it," he mumbled.

Charles sat by the fire and devoured a potato and several whitefish, spitting out the bones. "Thank you," he said to May, who handed him a wide cup with wine. He drank it deeply. "All well?" he asked Andrew. "No trouble last night?"

Andrew shook his head. "No trouble. Everything was quiet last night, though I thought I saw something strange just before dawn."

"Oh? What's that?" Charles set the cup down.

"I dunno…" Andrew shrugged. "It was a clear night you know, and no wind. All of a sudden, there was a breeze. It made me shiver," he said, running a hand through his dark hair. "Then I saw…a bunch of sparrows fly away toward the lake. It was just getting light," he explained. "But I could see them, this huge number of birds in the sky."

"I told him he must have been asleep," May said, her hands on her hips. Charles stood up.

"The flock wasn't skittish, were they? The ewes-"

Andrew shook his head. "They didn't move." Charles patted him on the shoulder.

"Then I would not worry about it," He yawned and stretched. "Go out to the pasture and tell Alfred to come in." Andrew left, taking Ve with him.

May raised her eyebrows. "So are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to pry it out of you?"

"What?" He was immediately defensive. The older woman snorted.

"Just like my late husband…and Drake, for that matter." She shook a wooden spoon at him. "I was in Downton this morning with my _lovely_ sister-in-law and heard the most astonishing story from Ivy. What's this about you finding a woman in the meadow this morning?"

"Oh," he gulped, his mind racing. "It isn't much, Elsie needed help, so I helped her. End of story."

"That's what I thought," May said, "Until I was asked by no fewer than eight people who she was, and how you knew her. Richard's eyes glazed over when I asked him about the shepherdess. Does Isobel have a rival? I never would have thought!"

"Richard would never turn from Isobel," Charles said. "Besides, Elsie isn't his type."

"So is she yours?" May laughed.

He glared at her, his heart thumping painfully. "Of course not! Don't be absurd!"

He was glad when May left a little while later. When Alfred came in to eat, they had a long chat about selling a couple of rams to the king, the weather, and the lambs soon to come. It was a relief to talk and think about things that made sense. The rhythm of life.

But after dark when Alfred had gone to sleep, and Charles lit the candles, he let his mind wander. To the only thing that had occupied his thoughts, awake or sleeping, all day.

"Hello, Eala," he murmured low, his eyes on the figurine who held a rose in her hand. "I hope you will forgive me. I know I should have taken Elsie to the temple. I was weak," he put his hands on his knees. "She is so beautiful…" he swallowed. "I've never seen anyone so beautiful." He shook his head, and scratched the back of his neck. "But she did not show the proper respect to you, and seemed to enjoy teasing me. I have to admit…she made me think. About the rituals. When Thomas comes home, I'm going to take him to the temple. I should go myself." He sighed, covering his face.

"Are you telling me I need a wife?" he whispered. "I have resisted going to Martha, but perhaps it is time. I…do not want to be carried away with lust." He held out his palms. "Eala, Divine Love, help me to look past what I can see to what is unseen. Remind me that though I am a man, I have been given a will to restrain my passions until the time is right. Help me, Beautiful Lady."

He watched the shadows flicker on the wall. "Eala...it felt as though something I have long waited for happened," he whispered. "But you know best what is good for me, and for Elsie. Help me to be a friend to her, and not show what I feel." He blew out the candles and laid down. The smoke wafted through the window on a light breeze, carrying it over the hill to the hut beneath the oak tree.


	4. Daisy and The Matchmaker

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews and opinions of this story! This is a Charles-only chapter. It was longer, but I don't want every chapter to turn into a 4,000+ word saga. Next chapter will be Elsie again.**

 **The falling star bit...is for the Starman.**

Clouds had filled the sky for most of the day. They broke apart long after midday, pouring light onto the rain-soaked fields. Charles blinked in the sunshine.

The warmth seeped into his bones. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

 _Thank you, Father of the Sky, for opening the clouds. Praise be to the Giver of Light, the Sun-God._

A ewe bawled. Ve looked up from his place beneath an elm. He glanced at Charles, who shook his head. The animal in question was pregnant, and he was anxious for her lambs to arrive. Like all those in his flocks, she wore a garland of dried purple crocuses, twisted together.

The flock was grazing quietly on a hill south of Charles's home. If he looked over his left shoulder, he could see the top of the oak tree in the distance, Elsie's hut hidden behind another hill. He sighed.

Four days. Four times the sun had risen and set since he had seen her.

And he could not stop thinking about her.

He knew it was unkind and cowardly of him to send Alfred and Andrew to check on the shepherdess; both lads had come back shaken. Alfred's face had been the same color as his hair. Andrew had been unable to say a word. But to go himself was something Charles could not risk. He was reassured when Alfred told him Elsie had been visited by Richard and Ivy as well.

A horse neighed from the road on his left, pulling a chariot that had stopped within sight of his land. Charles wondered if the animal had gone lame. Then he saw someone step from the chariot, and off the road. He shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun, his heart giving a great leap. He dropped his crook and ordered Ve to sit in place. A wide smile spread across his face.

The small figure began to run, and he towards her.

" _Daisy!_ "

"Papa!"

His daughter sprinted towards him as fleet as a deer. She flew into his arms, and he swung her around in his arms before enveloping her in a hug.

"What, lass? I did not expect you for another two days!" He kissed her head as she clung to him. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Papa," her voice was muffled against his chest. Drawing back, she looked up at him, smiling so her dimples showed. "You look well."

"So do you," he touched her face. "You've grown since the last time I saw you." He could not believe how much she looked like Alice – her dark hair and light blue eyes mirrored her mother's. His heart twinged.

"Yes," she skipped, her arm around his waist as they walked back to the elm. "Mistress Penelope told me I will pass her by the end of the summer!" Her smile faded. Ve got up and trotted over to her, and she let him lick her hand.

"What is it?" Charles asked, picking his crook up again. Daisy tried to smile, but it did not reach her eyes.

"She's ill…that's why Master Bill sent me home early. He did not want you to worry," she said quietly.

Charles's heart clenched. He immediately put a hand on her forehead. "Is it the fever? Does Bill think you have it? I need to send for Richard-"

" _Stop_ , Papa," she removed his hand from her head and squeezed it. "I feel fine. _Please_ don't send for Richard. Anyway, he should be at their home by now. I passed him in his chariot when I was just to the village. Joseph was with him. They both sent greetings to you."

Letting out a breath, Charles held her hand. She seemed fine. Her cheeks were pink but not overly so. She had been walking since the morning.

"It is natural for me to worry about you," his voice came out gruff, but it did not disguise his affection. "You and your brother are everything to me."

She gave him another hug. "I know." She sighed. "I feel sorry for Joseph. He's worried about his mother."

"Of course he is," Charles murmured. He stroked her long, dark hair. He hated to think of what would happen if something happened to either her or Thomas.

Daisy ran down to the hut shortly thereafter to see May. The two returned a short time later with Alfred, carrying food and wine. Charles whistled for Andrew, who was on the opposite slope watching Elsie's flock. They all sat down to eat beneath the elm. The apprentices and Daisy talked nonstop; she had not been home since the quarter-moon.

It did surprise Charles a little that neither of the lads mentioned Elsie. He was not about to, doubting he would be able to speak of her without mortification. The young people exchanged stories of the village and the doings further north. Charles thought Daisy enjoyed teasing Alfred about Ivy.

"Please send my regards to Joseph when you return," Charles said the moment he had a chance. "How is he? Is he still helping Peter?" He was surprised his kind friend worked for the hardened wheelwright at all.

"He's well," Daisy said, her mouth full of bread. At a look from her father, she swallowed quickly. "And no, he's helping John at the forge now."

"That does not seem to suit the poor man," May said. "That hot, dirty, filthy place?" She shook her head. "If the world was just, Joseph would be a tutor in the king's palace. He taught you to read, Daisy, as well as others." She handed Charles a cup of wine.

"Just or not, at least John will be fair to him," Charles replied. "Which is more than can be said of Peter." He was pleased to think of John and Joseph working together. The two had been friends for years. On the other hand…no one thought well of Peter, with good reason. _His poor wife._

"Oh! Daisy," Alfred interrupted. "I forgot – _you've_ been to the palace! You went there with the weavers!"

"What was it like?" Andrew asked, his eyes wide. Daisy laughed.

"It's nothing like what you think," she elbowed Andrew playfully. "Not like the holy words about the halls of the gods. Hasn't Thomas ever told you?" The lads shook their heads. She rolled her eyes at them, sighing. "It's a great stone place. Mistress Penelope and I were shown into the queen's rooms. Big windows looking out on fields. Beautiful tapestries covering the walls. Servant girls holding cloth, and a lad in the corner playing the lyre."

"I feel sorry for him, sitting in a room with ladies all day," Alfred said with a snort. "I'd rather be tossed out the window, me." He brushed breadcrumbs off his hands.

Daisy pursed her lips. "He didn't seem to mind," she said, her cheeks suddenly flaming with color. "He had a lovely voice."

Charles jerked his head towards his daughter. "Did he? Who _is_ this lad?"

"I never heard his name," Daisy said, blushing harder. "He sang well, that's all." She did not see Andrew's scowl.

"Hmph," her father mused, ignoring May's pointed look. "Did you see Thomas?"

"Yes, but only for a moment," the girl said quickly. "He looked well enough, but was in a rush to prepare for the king's return. We barely had time to say hello." She avoided her father's eyes. He did not notice.

"I have not had a message from your brother at all since he was home," Charles said softly to no one in particular.

May cleared the remnants of their meal, and Andrew went with her back to the hut to sleep. Alfred left to take the watch over Elsie's flock. Charles tossed Ve a bone, lost in thought about his son.

"Papa?" Daisy twirled the crook, sitting on the long grass, as the sun went down.

"Hmm?" He was far away.

"What do you think of the new shepherdess?"

Charles's heart skipped several beats. "W-why ask me about her?" His voice came out harsher than he meant it to. "Who was talking about me?" _For the first time all day, I thought of other things, and the person to remind me of her is my own daughter!_

Daisy wore a confused expression, and he did not blame her. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "What I mean is, who told you about Elsie?"

"Phyllis," she said. "Peter's wife. She saw me as I was passing through Downton and offered me some cheese. We talked for a while. She said she saw you drive by with her in Richard's chariot. And that Ivy had said she'd sprained her ankle, and you helped her. That's all."

Forcing himself to smile, Charles gestured for her to hand the crook to him. He relaxed a little at her news. Phyllis was a kind, amiable woman who deserved a much better husband than the one she had. She was also not a gossip. She would not make too much of the incident, and certainly not to Daisy.

"Elsie seems to be a nice woman," he said carefully. "I…do not know much about her, but I think she will be a good neighbor." _One who I hope I will not see very often. For my own sake._

Twisting her hair in her fingers, Daisy stood up. "Would you mind if I visited her tomorrow? To meet her while I'm home?"

The stars were coming out above them. He sighed, leaned on the crook. "No, I have no objection. Go see her, but make sure to bring her something as a gift." _Better she visit than me. Or the lads._

Daisy yawned and nodded, covering her mouth. "I will. I'm going to bed." She gave him a hug and kiss.

"Sleep well," Charles said. "Remember to say your prayers." He watched her walk down the hill to the hut, where an oil lamp was burning in the window.

He sighed as the night sky darkened. It was wonderful to have Daisy home, but he was not sure how she would feel when he told her he was going to visit Martha.

 _And what about Thomas?_

"Oh Eala, guide me," he whispered, pulling his cloak around his shoulders. "Help me to do what is right for them, and not just for myself."

His breath was caught by the sight above him. A falling star streaked across the sky, followed by another. Then another. Charles pressed his fingers against his forehead, then dropped his hand with his palm up in tribute.

He had seen a similar display in the heavens years before. Then, he had taken it as a sign of approval of his marrying Alice. They had been engaged before Father had sailed into the storm that killed him. Charles's mother, grief-stricken, found it impossible to look after the flocks alone. He and Alice had agreed to wait to marry so that he could care for his mother and look after his parents' sheep.

Dying less than a year later, his mother gave her blessing for him to wed before she departed. But then it seemed the gods turned against him. A rare disease decimated the flock. Just when they recovered, the kingdom went to war and he was compelled to fight with Robert. Another two years were lost. When he returned, he found the shepherds he had hired were negligent. By then, Alice's father wanted to break off his daughter's betrothal.

The vision of falling stars helped convince him not to.

Charles and Alice had been married shortly after.

* * *

It was still quite early in the morning when he reached the village. He had left home when it was scarcely light outside.

He did not want there to be an audience when he visited the matchmaker.

"I knew you would be coming to see me." Martha wore a smile that could only be described as smug. It broadened when Charles glowered at her. "Now, there's no need to be upset, Charles. I only have your best interests at heart."

She invited him into her house, where embroidered tapestries hung on the walls. That was no surprise. Martha had long been the wife of a merchant, and due in large part to his wealth, Robert had married their only daughter, Cora. After her husband's death, Martha had become the matchmaker. Many suspected it was more for her own amusement than to help others. But there was no doubt she did well.

Charles wrinkled his nose at the sharp scent of incense. A servant boy took his crook while a girl poured wine. Martha gestured for him to sit on the wooden floor, across the low table from her.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, sipping her wine. "Only days ago, if you had come to see me, I would assume I needed to find a woman for you. I may yet have to, since you dawdled. You are not the first man to come to me about Elsie."

He spluttered, and almost spit wine out of his mouth. Swallowing it hastily, he glared at her. "I have _not_ come here about the shepherdess," he said, his face warm. Martha raised her eyebrows. "I only just met her, and know hardly anything about her. I have merely come to ask for your assistance in finding a suitable wife. That is _all_."

"You surprise me, Charles," she said. "Every other man who has visited here recently has asked for Elsie. No one else. And you, the one who met her first, and by at least one account the only man to affect her, you ask me to find you a wife." She laughed.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean, 'affect her'? I only helped her. Don't tell a story when there isn't one." Inside, his heart raced. Elsie could not possibly…like him. He had chased her, threatened to take her to the temple. When he had left her at her home, she had barely looked back at him. Surely she had not spent the last few days thinking of him. And certainly not in the way he thought about _her._

Had she?

Martha pursed her lips. "It seems she asked Richard about you."

His heart skipped. He had to bite his lip to keep from asking anything more. Or to smile. _Impossible. A woman like her, asking after me?_ "I am sure she was only being polite."

The matchmaker scrutinized him, playing with her jeweled necklace. "Are you _sure_ you don't have a woman in mind?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "I trust your discernment in this matter." _Above my own._

 _That woman makes me forget all my reason. There is more to marriage than lust. There_ _ **must**_ _be._

"All right," she said reluctantly, folding her hands. "Is there anything you desire in a woman? I hardly need to tell you that there are many to choose from."

Charles scratched the side of his face. "I do not want a child as a bride. You know how old Thomas and Daisy are. They would never accept a girl as their stepmother. And I am not a young man anymore," he tapped his finger on the table. "My children need a mother's care. Try to find someone who will love them," he said quietly. "Also," he hesitated slightly, "if you could find someone who…knows her own mind, and is not afraid to speak it, I would be grateful."

Nodding, Martha twiddled her thumbs. "That last request does _not_ describe your dear Alice."

He blew his breath through his nose. "No. But I have changed since I was young." A breeze wafted through the large room. Through one window, a horse neighed loudly. Martha put a finger next to her nose.

"A woman, not a girl," she said. "A woman who loves your children. A woman who is not fazed when you bluster, instead of one who simply bows to your temper." She sighed. "You ask a lot, but I'll do my best."

He put his hands flat on the table. It was embarrassing to have her say it so baldly. And yet it was true. Standing up, he counted out three gold pieces. She took them and walked him to the door without further conversation. The boy handed him back his crook.

"I almost forgot," Charles said, turning. "Thomas will be home at the next new moon. Could you wait to tell me what you find until after then? I have to speak with both of my children first."

"I'll wait," Martha said. "I understand, it's important that they know what you are planning." She grinned, a not altogether unsympathetic smile. "May the gods favor you when you tell them."

"Thank you," he said. He walked back down the dirt path toward the edge of the village.

His head told him he had done the right thing. It was time, perhaps past time, for him to marry again. And Martha, as galling as she could be, also knew her trade well. She would bring his attention to acceptable women.

If only he could forget about his new neighbor.

But the knowledge that she had asked about him made his heart sing. He whistled on the way home.


	5. An Unexpected Guest

Tapping her fingers on the earthen floor, Elsie peeked at the bread again.

 _Not yet. You did not wait long enough yesterday, remember?_

She sighed, rolling her outstretched foot from side to side. At least her ankle was healing. Slowly. The swelling was going down, and she was able to get around her home well enough. Very early that morning before dawn, she had gone out on the hillside and told Alfred to go rest. _At least I can watch the flock myself for a while._

Well, by herself with the help of an intelligent sheepdog called Frea. She and the dog had kept watch until Andrew arrived. Elsie had left the lad late in the morning to tend the sheep.

Glancing around the hut, she could not find a single thing to occupy her mind until her paltry meal was done. It naturally followed that she thought of the only other fixation that had obsessed her since she arrived.

Charles.

It confounded her that she did not know _why_ she could not stop thinking of him. She had thought it was because he had been the first man she met – until she remembered waving at a youth before walking up the path to the shrine.

So that was not it.

Part of it, she knew, was physical attraction. It was in her nature to admire beauty; after all, it was one of her gifts to mortals. The shepherd was not as handsome as Marcas, or her other past lovers. But there was something about the way he stood, even when he was tired. He had a natural dignity without artifice.

She swallowed hard, remembering the feel of him carrying her. His strong arms and back. She wished she had found a reason to touch his face. Or his hair. The thick, black curls with silver mixed in…

 _It is well you did not touch him._ _ **Anywhere**_ _else._

She was glad she had not seen him since he took her home. Not that it had kept her from asking Richard about him. A man of integrity, the healer said. Charles was well respected in the village, and in the wider kingdom.

Elsie's curiosity had been heightened, especially after hearing his prayers. It was not the first time she had heard a man pray for strength to resist his own desire. But it was rare when someone meant it.

Charles undoubtedly had the most sincere heart of anyone she had ever met. Divine or mortal.

Perhaps it was that which intrigued her.

Despite his own desire ( _oh, when he called her beautiful, she was both thankful and furious that her ankle kept her from going to his home and seducing him on the spot_ ) he set aside his passion for a greater need. A wife to help him, a woman to love his children.

Elsie wished she could hear his thoughts as well as his prayers. Although now that she _had_ given him strength to resist her (she was also wondering why she answered his prayer), it was most likely a good thing she could not read his thoughts. It may be that his heart had already turned to someone else, that he had gone to the matchmaker; that he could be preparing an offer to another woman at this moment.

Laughing, she shook her head at her own agitation. _It would be better for him_ _ **and**_ _for you if he married quickly._ But she could not deny she felt a surge of jealousy at the thought of another woman in his arms.

She wrinkled her nose, an acrid scent intruding her thoughts.

 _The bread!_

It was black, smoking when she pulled it out of the fire. "Oh _no_ ," she groaned. "No, no, no, no…"

She gingerly touched it, wincing when the heat of it burned her fingers. She put her fingers in her mouth, hoping to lessen the sting. Tears pricked at her eyes.

Never did she imagine baking bread would be so difficult. _How do mortals survive? If_ _ **they**_ _can do it, why can't I?_

If it wasn't burned, then it was underdone. She had nearly devoured a small loaf the day before, only to find raw dough inside.

Her belly complained. Elsie managed a dry laugh at the sensation. She had always been well aware of a certain kind of hunger, having felt it herself, or observed it – that which existed between male and female, between men for men, as well as women for other women.

At least with Charles she knew how to handle the feelings. She had felt them before, if not as strong.

But the hunger she had also felt for the past few days was one that she had not been prepared for at all.

The sight of Frea chasing a hare that morning had not improved Elsie's mood.

It felt silly to envy the animals' ease of feeding. Her dog simply hunted for food, or ate what was in front of her, as the sheep did. Elsie had done the same for the first few days, eating through what was in the larder – the bread and cheese, the figs and dried fruit. She was exceptionally glad a cat came with the hut. A grey and white mouser, who sometimes ate right on her doorstep.

Ivy had brought another honey loaf the second day. The apprentices had brought other food, mostly fish. She burned those as well, but had more trouble eating them without choking on the bones.

Elsie picked at the charred crust. Perhaps if she were fortunate the entire loaf would not be lost. She managed to get off the worst bits, and felt a little better when she reached the center. It was baked through. The scent made her mouth water.

A knock sounded at the door.

Elsie wondered who it could be. The sun was high. One of the lads? She limped to the door.

It was a short, stout woman, with frizzy red hair. Her tunic and hood were mud-stained from the road, and she carried a walking stick with her.

"May I help you?" Elsie asked as politely as she could. She had a feeling she knew what the woman would want. It was customary for those in the kingdom to be generous with anyone who knocked on their doors, but she was not in a generous mood at the moment.

"Oh, Mistress, could you spare some food and drink for this weary traveler?" the woman asked, lines on her face. "And a place to rest for a while? My old bones have journeyed far today."

Elsie had to force her face to remain neutral. "Of course," she said, ignoring the sinking feeling in her chest, "Come in."

The woman stepped into the hut. She sat down next to the fire with a sigh, stretching her legs out. Elsie handed her a cup of wine. She then with extreme reluctance went to the loaf of bread, which was still steaming. She tore off most of the burned ends, and placed the rest in a wooden bowl. She set it before the woman, picking up the empty cup to pour more wine into it.

"Is this all?" The traveler looked up at her, a frown on her face. Elsie stared at her in disbelief, then remembered herself.

"Yes it is. I am sorry," she said, her voice low. _Of all the travelers to bang on my door, **I** have to get the one who complains._

The woman took one bite of the bread, and dropped the rest into the bowl. "Ugh!" she spit out the bite of bread. "This is _burnt_! What sort of welcome is this? Do you always give your guests such poor fare?"

It was a good thing Elsie had her back half-turned, because her mouth fell open at the woman's rudeness. She bit her tongue so hard it hurt. "As I said, I AM sorry," she snapped over her shoulder, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. "But right now that is all I have." She struggled to keep from throwing the cup in her hands. _And you are eating the BEST loaf I have made in five days._

The woman fingered the lump of bread in her bowl. "Well, I suppose it isn't too bad," she mused, holding it up. "Especially for a goddess who's never baked anything. I should know. I can grow the wheat, but what to do with it after – it's a mystery to me."

Elsie whirled around, almost dropping the cup. A smile played on the face of the stranger.

" _Beryl?_ "

"Took you long enough, _Eala_. Or shall I call you Elsie?" The woman laughed, standing up. "You didn't recognize me at _all_. And here I thought we were friends! Then again," her eyes twinkled, "we can't all have my dazzling good looks!"

Elsie took another look at her. Now that she knew who it was, she could not believe she hadn't seen it at once. The two friends embraced.

"What are you doing here?" Elsie asked, her hand on Beryl's arm. "I was not expecting anyone until the summer at least!"

"I was worried about you, from the way you spoke to your father," Beryl said, picking up the bowl and handing it to Elsie. "I never know how he's going to react to defiance. You can't blame me for that. I was waiting outside the hall when he found me and told me where you had gone." She sighed. "I hardly blame you for wanting to put off your wedding, but living as a mortal is a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"No," Elsie said, her heart sinking when she thought of Victor. "Once I _am_ married, I will be tied to him for an eternity. At least if mortals are stuck in bad marriages, they can escape once they die and go to Elysium."

"Which is no comfort to them, I'm sure," Beryl said drily. "Go on, eat the bread. I'm not really hungry, but I know you are." They sat down while Elsie ate. Beryl told her of her plans to travel the countryside, from kingdom to kingdom. Spring was her favorite time on earth. She had often wandered during the growing season.

Draining the last drops of wine from her cup, Elsie sighed. "I am sorry," she said quietly. "I should not have said that about mortals. Death is terrible for them." Once food was in her belly, it was easier to remember other things.

Beryl leaned her head on her hand. "You are right. Not the words you used, but what you meant. The difference between us and mortals is the circle of their lives. We go on and on as we are. They are born, grow up, then wither and perish. Like the wheat."

Elsie raised her eyebrows. "I was not aware you studied philosophy." In the corner, the cat stretched.

Her friend shrugged. "I may have picked up some things during my travels. But I have to say," she nudged Elsie, "I have never violated my own shrine, or sprained _my_ ankle. Or been captivated by a _man_."

Groaning, Elsie raked through the ashes of the fire, stirring it up again. "Why did you _remind_ me? I've been trying to forget about him!" She huffed out a breath and yanked a hand through her hair, her face growing warm. The image of Charles appeared in her mind as clearly as if he stood before her. She bit her lip, her belly turning over with desire.

Beryl's mouth was open. "By the Thunderbolt," she muttered. "I thought your son-in-law was joking about the man – but I see he wasn't." She reached over and put her hand on Elsie's. "I would tease you, but this is no laughing matter."

"How did he know about me?" Elsie's temper rose. "Did my father send him to spy on me?"

"No, no, your father's got nothing to do with it," Beryl patted her hand. "You know Harmony's husband likes to know what's going on in every place. And doesn't mind sharing news with his friends."

"True, that does not surprise me," Elsie nodded, calming down. " _You_ surprise me, though. I thought for certain you'd laugh at me." A smile curved the side of her lip up. "You have before. Many times. Why should now be any different?"

"I haven't seen you like this," her friend contradicted her. Worry was evident in Beryl's face. "For one, everyone else you fancy, you bed them within a day, if not within an hour. It isn't like you to hold yourself at arm's length. _Especially_ not with a mortal man."

Pressing her lips together, Elsie shrugged. "There's a first time for everything. I came here to learn how the mortals live when their love is thwarted. As for Charles…I could not just seduce him to please myself. I've listened to his prayers. It would be wrong to have him and leave him." Her voice was soft. "It would destroy him."

"Men are weak. Unlike the gods," Beryl paused and studied the floor. "You should know that Victor is insanely jealous that you'll fall in love with someone else while you're away."

"Is he?" Elsie asked, cocking an eyebrow. "He does not know me very well, then. I do not fall in love, I _am_ Love." Her tone was light, but she felt a sudden twinge of fear. If Victor was stirred into a rare temper, the effect would be catastrophic. It had only happened a few times, unlike with Marcas. Harmony's father harbored a simmering anger, a palpable rage. Victor's was buried deep under the surface.

When his wrath was kindled, it exploded.

Beryl put her hand on her friend's arm. "It does not matter how well he knows you. What matters is he's been in his forge since you left-" she ignored Elsie's snort-"making a jeweled belt that would make any human king want to sacrifice their sons for."

"That is changing his tune," Elsie said tossing her hair over her shoulder, "from his usual interest in armor and swords."

Beryl gave her a look she could not place. "He's making it for you."

"M- _me_?" She was stunned. "Why would he do that for me? He never showed any interest before, not until he approached my father." _And even then he behaved as if he were competing for a prize._

Shrugging, Beryl scooped the cat onto her lap. "Maybe he does care for you in his way," she mused. She did not sound as if she believed it. "You and I both know that dazzling jewelry is not the way to win you, but it's all Victor knows."

That was true enough, Elsie knew. But it came as no comfort to her.

"And what of the man? Charles?" Beryl asked. Elsie had forgotten she had said his name out loud. "Does he care for you?" She was sorely tempted to ask her friend the same question, but she did not think it right to ask.

She was afraid of the answer she would get.

Elsie sat listening to the sound of the breeze outside, the rustling of the leaves on the branches above the hut. She thought about Charles's prayers. Her heart thumped painfully.

"No more than any other man would," she finally said. "If he does feel something, I am sure it will pass."

She hoped it would.

Because thinking of him brought no comfort either.


	6. Sister and Brother

After Beryl asked Elsie about Charles, there seemed to be nothing else to say.

So Elsie showed her guest how she had made the bread.

"I _think_ this is how it's made," she said, shaking her head at the lump of dough. "When Ivy was here, I asked her how she made her bread taste like honey. I couldn't ask her how to _make_ bread – of course she assumed I already knew that!"

The two made several attempts without success. Elsie was frustrated. It felt as though the answer were staring her in the face, but she could not see it. Beryl enjoyed kneading the dough. Elsie had to tell her to stop, reminding her friend that it was intended to be food, not something to play with.

"We might as well play with it, since we can't figure out what else to do," Beryl leaned her fists on the table. Her face was red with heat. The door was slightly open to let a small breeze in, but it was very warm inside the hut.

"I have to make this somehow," Elsie said firmly. "I can't keep using flour, it will run out too quickly." She sighed, wiping sweat from her forehead. "I will have to ask Ivy how to make bread. She will think I'm daft, but what else can I do?"

"Hello?" A strange voice called from the outside.

Beryl and Elsie looked at each other in alarm. The cat meowed, and Elsie heard the stranger say something to the animal that sounded like an endearment. She hobbled to the door and opened it wide.

A slight dark-haired girl was petting her cat with one hand, while the other held a bundle wrapped in cloth. She straightened up when she saw Elsie. Her blue eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open before she caught herself. She looked to be about twelve years old.

 _A gentle soul_ , something whispered in Elsie's mind. There was something familiar about her.

The girl stammered for a moment, her pale face reddening. "A-are you the shepherdess? I-I'm Daisy. I live over the hill, just there-" she turned, pointing to the east.

 _Daisy._ "Yes, I am Elsie. I'm very glad to meet you," she replied, feeling rather flustered herself. _So this is Charles's daughter._ She could see the resemblance in the shape of Daisy's eyes, the way she nervously twisted her fingers together. "Would you like to come in?"

"Thank you," Daisy said politely. She clutched the bundle a little tighter as she stepped across the threshold.

 _No_ _ **wonder**_ _Papa seemed so bewildered when I asked about her._ Now it made sense.

"Daisy," Elsie said, holding out her hand to the short woman standing by the table, covered in flour, "this is a dear friend of mine, Beryl. She's – visiting. Beryl, this is Daisy. One of my neighbors."

"Pleased to meet you," Beryl said, nodding. A knowing gleam was in her eye. "Are you Charles's daughter, then?"

"Yes," the girl glanced at Elsie, a small smile on her face. "He did not tell me how beautiful you were." She seemed to realize what she'd said immediately, because her face went scarlet.

"Oh," Elsie waved her hand, her own face warm, "you're very kind." Beryl watched the exchange in fascination. _So this is how mortals react to her._

"I brought you something," Daisy said quickly, holding out the bundle. Elsie unwrapped it. It was a generous portion of cheese.

"Thank you very much!" Elsie exclaimed. "I'm sorry I have nothing for you right now-"

"You're baking bread," Daisy said, bending over the table. Her face lit up. "That's all right. It's one of my favorite things to do. Do you like to add more flour, or more oil?"

Before Elsie could say anything, Beryl stepped in. _Now we might fix the problem._ "You know, Ea- _Elsie_ and I were just arguing about that. We couldn't decide which way was better. What do _you_ think?"

"I've baked it both ways," Daisy said, peering at the dough. "If this were mine, I would add more oil. Do you-do you mind if I do it?" she asked Elsie, bouncing on her toes. "I do _love_ baking, but May's already done ours for today."

Elsie could have kissed her. "Not at all, you can be the deciding hand," she said lightly, giving Beryl a wink behind Daisy's back.

The girl hummed while her audience watched her intently. She chattered as she worked, unaware of the wisdom she was sharing. She mentioned adding raisins to the dough, something Elsie set aside for later.

"Do you add honey? Ivy does," Elsie said as Daisy carefully set the dough in its pan.

Daisy smiled, showing dimples. "Yes, I like honey too. And Ivy does that because _I_ showed her how," pride evident in her voice. "When her gran died two years ago, and she came to live with her uncle Richard, she wasn't very good at baking. Now she's _almost_ as good as I am."

"Should you boast like that?" Beryl teased her. "Before we've tasted your bread?" The girl raised an eyebrow, looking at that moment remarkably like her father.

"It's not boasting when it's true," she clapped her hands to rid them of flour. "You'll see."

She was not wrong. "This is _delicious_ , thank you!" Elsie sighed some time later. The memory of her own failed attempts were rapidly fading away. "You should be proud!" Daisy beamed, her mouth full.

"I agree," Beryl nodded. "Well done, Daisy. This is the best bread I've ever eaten by far." She ignored Elsie rolling her eyes.

 _The only other you've tried was my hunk of ash._

"Thank you very much," Beryl continued, getting to her feet. "And thank you, Elsie, for the fine visit. I must get on, the sun won't wait for me."

"I'll send something with you," Elsie said, gathering several figs and slicing off a little of the cheese. "Yes I will," she said in an undertone to her friend. "It would be strange if I sent you on your way with nothing. Give it to someone who needs it."

"It was nice meeting you, Beryl," Daisy called as they walked to the door. "When will we see you again?" She liked the red-haired woman. May was nice, and Mistress Penelope was patient, but there was a good humor about Elsie's friend that amused her.

And Elsie had a warmth Daisy had not felt for a long time. Papa was kind and loving, of course, but their new neighbor had a softer touch than her father or brother, not to mention the apprentices.

It had been a long time since she had spent so much time in the company of only women. Not since Mum…

"And you! I will come back soon, I hope." Beryl replied. "Perhaps the next time Elsie can bake and we'll see if she's as good a baker as you."

Elsie laughed. "If you're waiting for that, it will be a _long_ time," she said, grinning at Daisy. She guided her friend outside.

On the other side of the door, Beryl shifted her cloak. "I will come back, later in the spring," she whispered. "To see how you get on." She touched Elsie's arm. "Remember what I told you. Please be careful. It might be a good thing to get to know Daisy, but watch yourself around her father."

"I will," Elsie gave her a hug. They parted, and Beryl nodded toward the hut.

"I like that girl," she said quietly. "She sweet, but she's got a spark to her."

"Like someone else I know," Elsie said, grinning when Beryl shook her head.

Elsie returned inside after waving goodbye. The afternoon sun was warm. She was very glad to have seen her friend, despite her disquieting warning about Victor.

Frowning, Elsie grabbed her broom and swept the floor. Her ankle was beginning to hurt again. A sniff intruded her thoughts.

"Daisy?"

The girl sat by the flickering ashes of the fire. She hugged her knees, her head resting on them. Dropping the broom, Elsie sat next to her. "Are you all right?" Daisy nodded.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, raising her head and wiping her tear-stained face with her arm. "I should go, you must be very busy."

Her neighbor most likely wanted her to leave. What sort of girl was she, crying in front of someone she barely knew?

She moved to get up, but Elsie put a hand on her shoulder.

"I will not let you go home looking like that," she said softly. "Your father would think _I_ made you cry." She gave the girl a rueful smile. "He does not seem like the sort of man to take that well."

A laugh bubbled out of Daisy's mouth. "No," she agreed. "He...cares about me and Thomas very much. If he thought you made me cry, he'd come after you like a bear!" She swallowed, and tried to compose herself. She did not like to cry at home where her papa could see her. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel sadder because of her.

"I…I…I miss my mum," she said, a sob escaping from her. Her shoulders shook and she hiccupped, tears dripping down her face.

"Of course you do," Elsie murmured, putting an arm around her. _Poor child._ Her heart sank. She felt helpless. She could no more bring Alice back from Elysium than Daisy could.

To see the grief of mortals was something wholly new to her. Guilt flooded through her veins. _I give them love, and when it gets taken away, they suffer._

She wondered if Charles wept for his dead wife.

Daisy eventually quieted while Elsie soothed her as best she could. "I don't know why I cried just now," the girl muttered. "I guess because…because Mum taught me how to bake bread."

Elsie pulled a long strand of hair out of Daisy's face, tucking it behind her ear. "She would be very proud of you. Baking reminds you of her, doesn't it?" Daisy nodded.

"Then remember her well whenever you do it," Elsie said, a gentle smile on her face. "If you remember her, she will never truly leave you." _If only mortals knew how close their departed loved ones were._

"Really?"

"Really." Elsie patted her hand. She thanked the girl again for the cheese, and for making the bread.

"Can I-can I come and see you again?" Daisy asked before she left.

The way she asked touched Elsie's heart. "I would like that. Very much," she said, a bright smile lighting her face, even as she felt like crying. "If you ever want to talk, come find me," she said, thinking about the girl at home with no female relatives.

"Thank you," Daisy said, smiling back. She walked home, feeling light. She had only just met Elsie, but she felt she could tell her anything.

* * *

Walking along the road north of the village, Thomas avoided the mud with care. The sun glowed orange in the western sky.

He ate the remainder of cheese and figs in his hands. Grateful as he was that a passing woman had given him food, he was also offended.

 _She thought I was a common peasant! Her tunic was_ _ **much**_ _dirtier than mine!_

Not for the first time he wished he had better explained who he was. A poor woman like her should have been more impressed that he spent his days serving the king. As it was, she was rather rude.

 _She was mocking me when she agreed that pouring wine was hard work. Yes, it bloody well is! I do more than that, run off my feet all day and half the night…_

Father would say he was being proud. But why _shouldn't_ he be? Not many lads his age, and none from his part of the kingdom, served Robert and his family. If he was not at the palace, he would be languishing in the hills. Watching sheep.

Like his father.

Thinking of Father made his head ache. Yes, he sent him to the palace. Yes, Father wanted him to be educated. He am grateful.

 _But he doesn't want me near him. I know it._

 _Good._

 _We are too different to live with each other._

Thomas had to grudgingly admit Charles was well-learned, especially for a shepherd. But for an intelligent man to cling to the gods, to kneel in front of figurines of wood and stone each night, it was embarrassing. He himself had serious doubts as to their existence.

Better to think they did not exist, rather than believe in them and be hurt.

 _The gods bring us blessings we cannot see,_ Father had said more than once. Thomas's eyes burned with unshed tears, rage and grief mixed together.

 _How could he_ _say_ _that? Was my mother's death a blessing?_

 _Mum…_

Mum teaching him his letters. Her smile when he brought her flowers. Mum, baking her raisin bread. Mending Father's cloak.

It was different when he was young, Thomas remembered. Fleeting memories of racing across the meadow, of Father teaching him and later Daisy, to swim in the lake. Telling stories under the stars. Falling asleep to the sound of Father's voice. Waking up when he was carried to bed.

His father had always been diligent in his prayers, but his devotion did not seem so prominent in earlier times. Ever since Mum died, the gods seemed to be taking over, leaving a shell of a man he knew.

 _He is unwavering in his worship to all of you! Why? What have you ever done to him except hurt him? It is bad enough you took our mother from Daisy and me. Now it seems you demand our father as well. We may as well be orphans!_

Thomas despised the worship of all the gods, but he _hated_ Eala.

He hated the idea of her. He hated even more the thought that she might exist.

 _If you are real, I demand answers._

Ironically, it was his very hatred of her which kept his faith in the divine hanging by a thread. While he scoffed at the idea of gods, and said they were conjured by storytellers, simultaneously he seethed at the devotion to the Goddess of Love.

The seed of his hatred for Eala could be traced to what Father did the day Mum died.

 _The priestesses had not yet arrived. Her body lay still, cold and silent. May had taken Daisy outside. And what did Father do? Mourn for his wife along with his weeping children? His children who_ _needed_ _him?_

 _No._

 _He got up and hung the blanket across the room as if it were evening. Then he knelt before the altar and prayed. Prayed to the goddess through his tears._

 _The boy had sat in disbelief, wanting, needing comfort from his only living parent._

 _He was alone._

Since that day, it was as if a wall had been built between them. Since his father chose the gods over his children. Thomas had tried to speak with Charles about his anger and his doubts, but the father too often would take the side of the gods, infuriating the son.

What was the point of talking to him when he would not listen?

Rounding a bend in the road, Thomas caught a glimpse of Eala's temple in the distance. He clenched his fists.

 _Goddess of Love…goddess of pain, more like._

What sort of goddess gave love? An unfeeling, unthinking one. _If someone_ _ **she**_ _loved died, maybe it would make her think twice about giving it._

 _The gods are immortal. Convenient._ He snorted.

It was not just the pain of death that Thomas witnessed. What of his friend Anna? The young woman lost _her_ father as a child, then was subjected to her horrible stepfather's advances before she found the strength to flee. She served Lady Mary at the palace, where Thomas met her. But she had not seen her mother or younger sister since she left home. Her heart was bruised.

And then there were the stories about Eala's affairs with multiple partners. Why was it that a so-called sacred being could bed whomever she pleased, while those who worshiped her were punished if they took more than one mate? The hypocrite goddess!

 _There are no stories of her in dalliance with goddesses, either. Only gods._

If there were stories about her bedding a goddess, he doubted he would hate her less. The priestesses taught that Eala listened to prayers for all mates, both male and female. That did not comfort him.

Eala could not keep his father from being disappointed in him.

He had known forever that he was attracted to boys. Girls were friends, but he had no romantic feelings for them.

Telling his father had been the hardest thing he had ever done. With trembling knees, he had told his father the truth about himself three years before. Charles, surprising his son for once, had taken it calmly. But Thomas knew how he _really_ felt. He had heard him crying in front of the candles that night. Deep down, he knew his father had never looked at him the same since.

At least he knew Daisy loved him. But he sometimes resented her because of her closeness to their father. It reinforced the feeling of being an outcast, a disappointment.

 _I can't even tell my own father that I am in love. He would not care._

His body relaxed at the thought of Edward. Sweet Edward, who kept Thomas's temper in check. The youth who understood him better than anyone else. The lad who sang with a strong, clear voice, who could also throw a spear with greater accuracy than anyone else serving Robert.

The dark-haired friend who kissed him for the first time before he left the palace the day before.

 _Whatever happens, at least I have him._

Downton lay before him. The familiar huts, the fetid scent of goats and sheep, the now-quiet market in the evening light. A part of him was glad to see it, but it did not feel like home. Not anymore.

John was hammering away at something in his forge. Joseph was at the bellows. They looked up when Thomas walked by. John raised a hand in greeting.

 _Joseph, working at the forge?_

It did not surprise Thomas that the meek man had finally quit working for Peter. He did wonder what Phyllis thought about it.

 _Another person Eala cannot, or will not, help._ Why, _why_ , would the goddess condemn a good woman like her to a lifetime of cruelty? It was not just.

He did not want to look at the temple as he passed it, but his eyes were drawn there before he could stop himself. Men were standing outside in small groups. Through the open doors, he could see a line of men waiting their turn to offer incense to Eala.

 _Now that_ _ **does**_ _surprise me._

Only on holy days was there much activity. The next was not until Midsummer's Day. What could explain this?

Walking further on, he heard someone call his name.

"Thomas? Is that you?"

Phyllis stood in front of her hut, cleaning a sheepskin. He stopped.

"It _is_ you. I think you're taller than the last time I saw you!" a genuine smile was on her face. He returned it, trying to ignore the bruise around her left eye.

"It's the food at the palace, we all eat like Robert," he joked quietly. There was no sign of Peter.

"You look well," she said, patting him on the arm. "Better than I have seen you look for a long time."

"Thank you." He wished he could say the same. To cover the awkward moment, he gestured back to the temple. "Why are there so many men bowing to the stone lady this evening?"

"Tommy," she shook her head reproachfully. Phyllis was the only one who still called him by his childhood name. She didn't chastise him for his impiety, knowing he would not listen. "Your father likely did not have time to write to you, to tell you the new shepherdess arrived a few days ago. Taking Cassandra's place."

He had forgotten the elderly woman was leaving. "What does the shepherdess have to do with Eala's temple?"

Phyllis ran a hand through her hair. "She's caused quite a commotion. I saw her the day she arrived." She raised her eyebrows. "Her name is Elsie, and she's the most beautiful woman anyone's ever seen."

Thomas was not impressed. "What do people here know of beauty? Most folks have never seen Lady Mary, and she's considered the finest-looking woman in the kingdom."

"She won't be, not for long," Phyllis said without hesitation. "There is…something about Elsie. Ever since she arrived, there have been men visiting the temple, praying that Eala will grant them success with her."

"And Martha has had many more visitors than normal," a raspy voice said behind Thomas. Phyllis jumped.

"Oh, Peter! You are home," she said, her eyes wary. Thomas turned slightly and bowed, deeper than what was required, but he was not taking chances. Not with Phyllis standing there.

"Master Peter," he said formally, "Good evening to you."

The burly wheelwright pressed his lips together. He smelled of sawdust and sweat. And horse dung.

"'Evening, shepherd's boy," he said. "I suppose you want to get home yourself? To see this glorious creature? They say Eala herself has blessed her."

"I…I am curious, yes," Thomas told the truth as much as possible. Peter nodded.

"I haven't seen her yet. Every man without a wife is either praying to Eala or paying the matchmaker to get her," he said, letting out a healthy belch. "Including your father. Will wonders never cease?"

" _ **What?**_ " The blood drained from Thomas's face.

Smirking, Peter clapped him on the back. "My eyes don't lie. I saw Charles leave Martha's house early yesterday morning. He was whistling, he was."

It was not true. It could not be true. _He must be lying._ "Maybe," Thomas stammered, "maybe you just saw him pass the matchmaker's house-"

"No, no, he left through the door," Peter slipped his arm around Phyllis's waist, grinning. She cringed. "But if you don't believe me, ask my wife. _She_ saw your dear pa _with_ Elsie, didn't you, sweetpea? He looked mighty pleased with himself, so I heard."

Phyllis looked at the stricken young man in front of her. She would never want to cause him hurt, but she knew she had no choice. "Yes," she whispered. "Elsie…hurt her ankle, and your father took her to Richard's. I saw them when they were leaving in his chariot." Her dark eyes pleaded for forgiveness. "I am sure your father's intentions were honorable-"

If she had punched Thomas, it could not have hurt him worse. A hundred different pictures, each one increasingly lurid, raced through his mind. _First Daisy and I lost Father to Eala, now to some wanton tart._

For all of their acrimony, he knew his father to be a decent man, especially towards women. The thought of some wench getting her hands on Charles enraged him.

His blood boiled.

 _By Thunder, if she has seduced him, she will have_ _ **me**_ _to deal with._

"I…must go," he choked, turning. "G-good evening." He ran down the main path to the south.

Peter laughed and called after him. "Give Charles my congratulations. Enjoy your new mummy!"

Thomas flew like the wind out of the village and over the hill. The path to the shrine of Eala was off to his left. He spared it a glance without slowing down.

 _You are fortunate, goddess._

 _There is someone I hate more than you._

* * *

 **A/N: This is a Chelsie-centric fic, but of all the other characters in this story, Thomas will have the biggest role. I thought it necessary to explore his mindset and his motivations.**

 **I crave reviews, if you can spare the time.**


	7. Sun and Rain

The earlier rain had ended, but the setting sun beamed under the clouds, making the grass look like it was on fire.

"May I join you?" Charles asked. Daisy looked up and grinned.

"Of course," she patted the ground next to her. "It's nice to feel the sun on my face."

Her father sat down with a sigh. "Yes, I can imagine. May told me you got wet on your way home." He picked at his teeth with a finely shaped stick. "You must have got on with Elsie. I hope you did not keep her from her work."

He was wildly curious as to what happened, but was not about to let Daisy know that.

She shook her head. "She said I was no bother. After her friend Beryl left, we talked for a little while, then she had to sleep. So I came home."

"She's watching the flocks tonight, then?" Charles asked. He looked to the south. Alfred was visible on the hillside.

"Yes," Daisy ran her hand over the grass. "Elsie's very nice. She…she said I could come and see her while I'm here."

"That is generous of her," Charles threw away his chewed stick. "But don't go there _too_ often. Let her settle in." He felt an irrational surge of…jealousy, for lack of a better word. _My daughter can see her whenever she likes._

 _I cannot trust myself._

After he returned from seeing Martha, he found himself thinking even more about Elsie. It disturbed him that he could not stop.

Now Daisy had met her. He _would_ see the shepherdess soon, it was impossible that they could live so close and never meet again.

He wondered how they had managed to not see each other since she arrived.

 _Is Elsie staying away from_ _ **me**_ _? Why would she? She asked about me…_

Charles was yanked from his musing when Daisy leaped to her feet. "THOMAS!" she shouted, running down the hill.

Thomas turned from the road and headed east, to his left. A stitch had formed in his side. He was halfway up the hill, the hut in view, when he saw his sister heading towards him.

She flew into him, making him grunt. "You're here! You're home!"

Gasping, he bent over to hug her. His face was beet red. "What…what are you… _doing_ …here?" he panted, his hands on her shoulders.

"Mistress Penelope is ill," she said. "Master Bill sent me home."

He nodded. "Where," Thomas gasped, his chest heaving, "is Father?"

"Just there," she pointed behind her. Charles drew near and before Thomas could move, he put his arms around him.

"My boy," he said softly in his ear, "it is _good_ to see you." He was afraid to let go of him for several moments, trying not to cry.

Thomas stood stiffly, his arms straight at his sides. _What has happened to him? I cannot remember the last time he embraced me like this._

 _When did you last let him?_

Charles let go of his son and stepped back to better look at him. The smile on his face faded when he saw Thomas's expression.

"What is it?"

"Where is she?" Thomas asked, his eyes darting to the hut in front of him, the pasture around them. His eyes were cold.

"Where is – who?"

"The _shepherdess_ ," Thomas said, barely containing his impatience.

"Elsie?" Charles asked, completely confused.

"Yes, Elsie!" Thomas hissed, exasperated.

"She's at home, I expect. Why?" Charles had no inkling as to where this came from. _How would he know about her? He only just got home._

"So she isn't here?" Thomas had to be sure. Phyllis had _seen_ them together.

"No, she is not here," Charles retorted with some force, glaring down at him. His sharp tone provoked his son to jab him in the chest with his finger.

"You were seen with her, don't lie to me!"

"I would never do that," Charles growled. His temper rose at his son's attitude. _Can we never be together without_ _ **something**_ _making you angry?_ "Yes, I helped her. There is no reason to attack me for it!"

"He didn't mean-" Daisy began, turning to Charles before Thomas interrupted.

"Is that so? You 'helped' her, and that's all? Peter made it sound like you had already taken her to bed-"

"I did nothing improper!" Charles protested. "And since when did you listen to Peter? You know he exaggerates and tells lies!"

 _The last thing I need is for my son to know how much she has been on my mind._

Thomas crossed his arms, glaring at his father. Confound Peter for winding him up like that. But there was something else he had to know. "Was he lying when he said you had gone to see the matchmaker?"

Charles's belly turned over. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

"Did you?" Daisy asked, her eyes wide. "Did you visit Martha, Papa?"

Swallowing, Charles looked directly at Thomas. "I am sorry you had to find out from Peter."

"It's _true_?" Daisy's voice cracked. " _Why_ -" she reached for her brother and clutched the sleeve of his tunic.

There was a proud gleam in Thomas's eyes. "I _knew_ it. I knew it was true." Inside, he was raging. _How dare you do this to us._

Charles gestured for them to go inside. "Inside, both of you. We need to talk."

This was not the way Charles had wanted the news to be told at all. He knew Thomas was bound to be upset anyway, and now Daisy was agitated, too.

He could not figure out why Thomas was fixated on Elsie. He could only imagine what Peter had said to him.

They sat down around the fire. Charles took a deep breath.

"Listen. I have been thinking of going to Martha for a long time, since the Harvest Festival. This is not something I have done lightly." He tried to soften his voice. "The two of you are what matters most to me. I was thinking of you when I went to see her."

"You could have _asked_ us what we thought," Thomas snapped. He flopped onto his side. "I don't fancy a stepmother, and neither does Daisy!"

Both of them knew once a man went to the matchmaker, it was a question of when, not if, he wed.

Charles raised his eyebrows. "Why don't you let your sister speak for herself?"

She licked her lips, her eyes flitting from one side to the other. In the firelight, her face was pink. "I-I don't want another mum," she half-whispered, hunching her shoulders. "But-"

" _See?_ I _told_ you-"

"E _nough_ , Thomas!" Charles cried, exasperated. He nodded at his daughter to continue. Giving her brother a sideways glance, she spoke a little louder.

"I miss Mum," she said. "But I know you're lonely, Papa. Lots of people get married again if their mate dies." She pulled her knees up, resting her arms on them. "But why didn't you _tell_ us you went to see Martha?"

It hurt to think her papa had taken such a step without telling them. Even if it was not his fault that Peter told Thomas. She really was not sure how she felt about her father marrying again, but it would depend on who he chose.

She did not want to forget Mum.

But it would be nice if there was another female at home. Besides the cat.

She did not want to tell Thomas what she thought. _He thinks everyone's against him already._

Sighing, Charles rifled his hand through his hair. "I meant to wait until your brother came home to tell both of you. It seems I cannot hide my plans from anyone around here. For that, I am sorry." He put an arm around Daisy. "Your thoughtfulness means a lot. I…I am ready to get married again. But it is _not_ going to happen soon." He gave Thomas a pointed look. "Martha has not even told me of any eligible women yet. And when she does, it isn't as though I will get married before the summer is over."

"Even if Martha tells you the shepherdess is not married? Even then you would wait?" Thomas asked, turning a twig in the fire. Charles frowned at him.

"What did Peter say to you? Elsie has only been here a few days. I have _never_ been the sort of man to rush into things," Charles said. "What makes you think things are different now?"

 _It was not a lie. I_ _ **have**_ _been thinking of seeing Martha for some time. Thomas does not need to know the impetus of my decision to go to her was meeting Elsie._

 _I did not ask Martha specifically about her, anyway._

Thomas held his gaze. "The temple's been crowded with men offering prayers. The way Phyllis described her, it sounds as though she is quite the catch. And Peter said you were in a good mood when you left Martha's house."

"Just because half the men in the kingdom want Elsie," Charles said with a defiant stare, "does _not_ mean I feel the same. And I cannot remember if I was in a good mood yesterday, or the cause of it if I was."

 _Both of those are_ _lies._

"I have not even _seen_ her since her first day here," he felt nettled admitting it. "Could you at least try to give me the benefit of the doubt?"

He did not notice Daisy raise her eyebrows.

Thomas sat up and grabbed a crust of bread. "So you swear to us that it's only an accident that you visited Martha after she arrived? And you'll take your time in finding a wife?"

He thought if he and Daisy dragged their feet, they might be able to convince their father to not get married at all. He did feel rather sheepish about jumping on him about Elsie, but something about what Phyllis had told him about the woman bothered him. _Phyllis has seen Lady Mary. She would not lie. Not to me._

The fact that this apparently gorgeous woman lived within sight of their land also bothered him.

His father was an honorable man, but he was not blind either. And he and Thomas were exceptionally different when it came to women.

Charles held up his hands, glad that Thomas seemed to be calming down. "Yes, it was simply chance that I decided to see Martha in the last few days. And I promise," he looked both of them in the eye, "I will not rush into marriage. Whatever news I get, you will be the first to know." He let out a small breath, and dared to smile. "I _do_ want you both to approve of whoever I marry."

* * *

Frea slowed as she approached the bunched animals.

"Left!" Elsie called, and the dog maneuvered the sheep in the proper direction.

The late morning sun beat down on her shoulders, warming her face. "Forward!" she shouted, and the flock moved toward her, Frea behind them. She ordered the dog to stop when they were closer to her.

She had moved the sheep to the meadow further east to prevent overgrazing the nearer hills. Charles had told her he and Cassandra used to trade places, depending on the season.

Talking to the shepherd had been very strange.

Neither of them had said anything about the circumstances when they met. He only asked her how her ankle was healing, but said no more about it. Instead, they talked of the animals and the weather.

In some ways, it was strange because it felt unremarkable. As if they had always lived and worked side by side.

 _Well, you have. Sort of._

 _If he has been avoiding you, that is_ _ **your**_ _fault. You and your granting prayers…_

It was left to Daisy to tell her that Thomas was home for a number of days. The girl was clearly happy to see her brother, but did not speak much of him.

Elsie sat down to rest under a large ash tree. Its leaves were flowering, providing some cover from the high sun. It was a clear day, with no clouds.

Her cloak lay on the ground where she had left it. It had finally felt warm enough to remove it. She unwrapped half a loaf of bread and ate it, thankful once again for Daisy's help.

At least now she was not going hungry.

The skin on her shoulders was pink, and to her wonder, freckles had appeared there and on her bare arms. She walked a little distance to a small brook that chattered its way down from the higher hills east. Dipping her hands in, she took a drink then splashed cold water on her face and arms.

In the far distance to the southeast, she made out the shape of a range of mountains, the nearest one taller than the rest.

The air was so warm it made her drowsy. Elsie paced back and forth by the ash tree, humming a tune she had sung to Harmony. Her ankle almost felt like new again. She yawned, leaning on the crook.

She suddenly felt eyes on her.

Spinning to her left, a young man with black hair stared at her. She took a breath, putting a hand on her chest.

"You frightened me."

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to," he said smoothly, coming closer. His eyes were a clear blue.

 _He has been watching me for a while._ She sensed anger beneath his calm face. And deep sadness.

"My name is Elsie," she said, her voice low. Her eyes did not leave his.

His gaze dropped, and she resisted the urge to smile.

"I'm Thomas," he said, looking somewhere over her shoulder.

"Ah," she did smile then. "Daisy has told me about you."

"Funny," he replied, glancing directly at her for a brief moment, "she's hardly said anything about _you_."

He hoped his voice sounded steadier than he felt. In truth, he was unnerved. Alfred and Andrew's reactions and descriptions of her did not even come close to the reality.

She was beyond beautiful. Every part of her, from her red hair to her bare feet, was flawless. He had never seen such a perfect embodiment of woman.

 _Lady Mary could not stand in her shadow._

His heart thumped when he thought of his father. He swallowed, wondering just how resolute his honor was.

"It is nice to meet you, Thomas," Elsie said, wondering at his silence. "Is it nice being home?" She felt his discomposure, but there was only awe from him. No desire like the other men she had met so far-

 _Oh. I see._

 _He sees beauty in men._

Her body relaxed. She was glad of his preference; it meant that there was a least one male figure she had met, who she did not have to worry about inadvertently seducing.

"I suppose it is," he said, looking at the meadow. "I am glad to see Daisy, of course. But this place, the village, it never changes. Everyone stays the same." He glanced at her and shuffled his feet. "It's no wonder people are talking about you. Someone new." Daring to look her in the face, he raised an eyebrow. "How did someone like you end up here?"

There was something more to his question that she did not miss. "Cassandra left to go live with her daughter. I was needed here."

He tilted his head. "I don't remember her ever mentioning you."

"Maybe you just never heard her speak of me," she said lightly, refusing to give him anything. "She does have a large family, and many friends in Merton."

"Oh, are you family? Or a friend?" he pressed. She narrowed her eyes, and he blinked, pretending to brush dirt off his tunic.

"A friend, if you must know. Curious, aren't we?" she raised her own eyebrow.

"Yes," he crossed his arms. "I serve Robert at the palace, and my curiosity has helped me greatly."

"I'm sure it has," she clipped. _You should be wary that it does not get you into trouble._ She whistled for Frea, and directed her to bring back an errant ram. Thomas watched her in silence.

"One more question," he said, a smile playing at his lips. "How long have you been friends with Cassandra? I cannot make out your age at all. When I saw you earlier, walking up the hill, you looked no older than my friend Anna. But just now when we were talking, you seemed more akin to the priestess's age. Isobel, not Violet. Not that there is much difference there." It was one of the more strange aspects of her, one of the things that bothered him. He hardly knew why.

She had to force herself to look him in the face. _Of all people, he_ _ **would**_ _notice that!_ "I cannot say how long I have been friends with your former neighbor," she said carefully. "Many years, more than you have lived."

He smirked, looking up into the branches of the ash tree. "And how many have you lived, Elsie?"

"That is a second question, Thomas. I will not answer it."

"I thought you might not," he muttered under his breath. For a while, there was no sound except the breeze through the branches of the tree, and an occasional lamb bawling. Half of him wanted to walk away, but another part of him wanted to keep after her. To see how far he could push her.

 _If Edward were here, you would not be like this._

 _If Edward were here, he would see what I see. How dangerous she is._

He had to know what she thought about his father. Even though he knew she would not take it well. There was a strong will he sensed with her, one that he had witnessed at the palace among relatives of the family.

None were that strong, not even Lady Mary.

"Do you think my father is a handsome man?"

 _How dare he ask that._

" _What_!?" she blurted out. "Why would you ask such a thing?" To her horror, she felt her face grow warm.

The sight of her blushing made him lose color. _She likes him…Father doesn't stand a chance._

"I want to know," he said bluntly, his eyes at her feet again. "I _need_ to know. You are a strange woman. How will I know that after Daisy and I leave you won't try to tempt him? Make a fool of him?" his voice was rising, but he didn't care. An old wound, never healed, cracked open. "He loved our mother, and she was good to him! I don't care if you seduce every man in the village, but you will not touch him!" He brought his eyes level with hers, his fists clenched, his own face reddening.

Her blazing eyes brought him up short. Taking two steps backward, he slipped on the grass, but managed to stay upright.

Somehow.

His shoulders felt as though a great weight had dropped on them, making his knees bend so much he almost sat down.

"You are greatly mistaken," she whispered. "Greatly." It felt as if the air around them pulsed with some unseen force. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

He could not look her in the face.

"I would _never_ hurt Charles, he deserves better than that!" she cried. "He is a good man, despite all of his losses. You know _nothing_ about me if you think I would use him for my own purposes!" She took another step forward. He tripped on a stick, and fell over onto the grass. It felt like his backside was bruised.

He left her one parting shot before getting to his feet and stomping away. "For only being here a few days, you seem to think you know him well."

Unseen by either of them, Daisy sat hidden in the tall grass. She was unable to hear what they were saying, but could tell both were angry.

 _What did he_ _say_ _to her?_

She watched her brother storm off in a huff. Elsie stood looking in his direction until he was out of sight. She then turned with a yell and hurled her crook in the opposite direction. It sailed at least three hundred cubits and landed out of sight.*

Daisy's mouth dropped open. Laying down in the grass, she crawled away without being seen.

* * *

The rain had started the morning Daisy left, mirroring Charles's mood. Thomas began his journey back to the palace only two days after that.

He and his father had seldom spoken when he was home. When they did, it was mostly his father trying to find out what he had said to Elsie.

He wanted to forget it ever happened. But he knew he never would.

Charles wished that Daisy had heard some of Thomas's conversation, even though it was wrong.

All he knew was that the shepherdess had been provoked into anger because of something his son said.

It was days before his path crossed hers again, due to them watching the flocks at separate times.

Charles went out to check the brook. The unceasing rain had flooded it, driving the sheep further out.

He told Alfred to go back to the hut to dry off. The young man did not hesitate, running in the direction of his home. Charles continued up the slope, picking his way through the heavy mud. At his whistle, Ve herded the sheep into a little cleft on the hill.

The meadow was bleak, the grass beaten down. Another flock bawled at the leaden sky. A lone figure stood under the ash tree, her hair the only bright spot.

They stood side by side watching the rain.

He apologized for Thomas, saying that he had taught him better. "I have made mistakes with him," he said quietly, "but he is old enough to know better than to insult others."

"I accept your apology," Elsie bit her lip. She could hardly tell him what the quarrel had been about. "He-he meant well, but his anger got the better of him. As did mine." She shuddered to think of the moment when the boy had faced her, his hands in his fists. She had come perilously close to losing her temper.

 _It would have been the end of him._

Charles glanced at her. "He has a way of provoking others to anger. I don't know why he does it…" his voice trailed off. Her hood was down, her hair sodden, her cloak and tunic clinging to her body.

It was one thing to not tell Martha to approach Elsie, or to say little about her to his children. But when he was with her, all that went away.

The vision before him was greater by far than his dreams. When she swiped at her face in a vain attempt to rid it of water, it was all he could do not to touch her himself. He tore his gaze away with difficulty.

 _This is impossible._

"He is still a boy," she muttered. It was hard to remember what she had said to Thomas, though she knew she meant every word. It was harder still to only be able to look under her eyelashes at Charles. Only to look, but not to touch.

Every time she saw him, she told herself the same words. It had become a mantra.

 _He is a mortal. You are divine. He is not for you._

 _You would regret it if you hurt him._

She almost wished for the man next to her to be replaced by his son. If only to quell the tempest inside.

She envied the very raindrops that ran down his arms.

"I should go," he said. She could barely hear his voice over the patter of leaves above them.

 _Stay. Please._

 _Go. Now._

"If you must," she murmured. The sensation of knowing what _should_ be versus the terrible longing for Charles was ripping her apart. Her own will alone kept her still. Thomas's hostility and too-clever remarks were a further check on her.

But when she stood this close to the shepherd, almost feeling the heat of his arm next to hers, she had to clutch her crook to keep her balance.

 _He has barely touched me, and I am undone._

Her body and emotions could betray her, but she had always kept a semblance of control over them. During her previous affairs, it had always been she who began them, as well as determined how long they would last.

But this mortal completely addled her wits with his very presence. He made her feel as though her heart were no longer hers. It was as though he held some sort of power over _her_.

What unnerved her was that she rather enjoyed it, even as it frightened her. Coupled with the tenuous grip she kept on her own composure, she was overwhelmed with a storm of emotions.

She did not know how long she would be able to hold them back.

Charles cleared his throat and glanced up. "I think the rain is slowing down." He pulled his hood from his head. His curly hair was even more so in the heavy air, the black ringlets wild. Water dripped down the back of his neck. Elsie's breath hitched.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to stand in place.

He had taken a step forward to walk away when he heard her sharp intake of breath. Glancing back at her, he saw her eyes closed, her hands clasped so tightly around the crook her knuckles were white. She breathed short puffs of air, her lips parted. Her cheeks were red.

 _Like the first time I saw her._

 _I will not hold myself back._

 _Not this time._

Almost at the same time as the thought crossed his mind, he moved in front of her. He bent over and pressed his lips steadily to her full ones.

It was the gentlest touch she had ever felt. Her eyes fluttered open, but she did not move.

She could not.

 _I have been waiting forever for this._

The crook slid from her fingers onto the ground.

He smelled of rain, rich earth, alyssum and the wind. Reaching up, slowly, slowly, she curled her fingers into the damp hair above his ear. She parted her lips more, to relish the feel of his mouth on hers. His perfect mouth, molding with hers as if it belonged there. The sensation made her hum.

The sound of her voice brought a smile to his lips. She tasted…she tasted like both the sweetest honey and the most potent wine. And spring rain, summer dew, and cold water in autumn under a deep blue sky.

He inhaled, the scent of her filling his nostrils. It was like breathing life in.

Reaching blindly, he felt the soft silk of her hair in his hand. He brushed the spot below her ear, and the tips of his fingers danced from the side of her neck to her shoulder.

Quietly moaning, he kissed her deeper, tasting her tongue. Subtle hints of sunshine and a salty tang almost like a breath from the sea. He wanted to never stop, to pull her into his arms, to carry her to his house and drink her in fully.

Somehow he resisted, keeping one hand in her hair and the other on her shoulder. His thumb circling her collarbone.

She leaned forward to get closer to him. She wanted to link her hands behind his neck, draw him down to her, pull him on top of her, into her. But she contented herself with sliding her other hand up his arm before resting it on his chest. Over his pounding heart.

He grounded her to the moment, a single note plucked on the lyre and stilled, its vibration held in the palm of her hand.

Her own heart trembled within her.

Strange that she could be so tethered to the earth and yet feel as though she were soaring. It came to her that it was not the earth that held her in place, but him.

He had been lost, searching for something, an ache in the depths of his soul that he never understood. She knitted together the ragged edges of him.

They broke apart at the same time.

She looked down at the soggy ground, knowing desire was written on her face. _He regrets it._

 _ **I**_ _should not have let him. It is too dangerous to risk._

But oh, she would forever remember the feel of him against her. The touch of his lips.

Nothing in the heavens had ever come close to it.

He cursed himself silently. What had come over him? To kiss her like that? What must she think of him, a man who took liberties with a woman he had no right to?

"I am sorry," he said. "I…"

Elsie's head was bowed. She glanced up slightly, and when she did, he gasped. Her face, her skin glowed as if it was lit from within. A smile hovered on her lips.

 _By the gods._

 _She…she_ _ **liked**_ _it._

He made his mind up in an instant. He turned and sprinted away from her, racing across the meadow toward the hill where Ve and his flock waited.

Every part of his body rebelled. The man within him roared in protest. But the greatest ache was in his heart. He wanted to be honorable, to do the right thing. For his family, for himself.

When Alice died, his grief was a heavy burden. But what he felt for Elsie frightened him.

It could break him.

 **A/N:**

 ***According to the Internet, a cubit in ancient Greece was measured about 462 millimeters, or eighteen inches. Three hundred cubits would be 137 meters, or almost 450 feet.**

 **Please don't hate me, I want them to get over their stupid restraint as much as you do!**

 **I love you all. Please review, reblog, and recommend this story, if you are so inclined. Thank you!**


	8. The Flood

**A/N: Oof. I'm not completely happy with this chapter. I don't know if I'm trying to say too much at one time or what, but it's past time to give you all another chapter. Please review if you have time. I really appreciate it!**

In the next fortnight, it rained every day but one.

Ewes bawled, new lambs cried against the deafening roar of the flooded brook. The thundering, yellow mixture of water and mud poured into the river just south of the village. The road flooded and no one could pass.

It had happened before, Elsie knew. Seeing it firsthand was a different story. The lads were short-tempered, always being wet and often cold. Charles was curt more than once with her. She was abrupt in return, but quickly apologized for her rudeness.

The memory of their kiss did not help matters.

He was terrified by what he had felt, and she was no less undone.

The constant rain reminded Elsie of the power of the gods over mortals. Flooding was nothing – _nothing_ compared to what Victor could unleash. As much as she yearned for Charles's touch, she would not risk angering the power in the heavens.

The shepherd had been offended by her when they first met, warning her against laughing at the gods. She knew better.

 _It is no harm to laugh at them if they are in good spirits. They might laugh back. But if they are angry, it matters not how mortals behave. The gods will do what they will._

Meanwhile, it seemed that Charles had changed. He was polite, but formal to the point of almost being unfriendly. He said nothing about it in his prayers, so she was at a loss to know what he thought. The best she could think of was that he disapproved of _her_ behavior.

For the first time she felt shame. It had a greater dampening effect on her desire than the rain.

 _It is definitely not proper for a mortal woman to enjoy the kiss of a man who is not her husband. He is very strict about these things. You know that!_

The rain and floods did have their advantages. They were all forced, shepherd and shepherdess, and apprentices alike, to work together. Tying a strong rope across the brook for them to be able to pass, sharing a rare fire if someone managed to light one. Seeing Charles at moments of high anxiety, his concern when a ewe struggled to birth twin lambs, opened Elsie's eyes.

He would often go without sleep to let the lads get out of the rain sooner. More than once she demanded that he go rest, and insisted on watching the sheep herself. It was the least she could do for him.

Charles was glad that she took charge at times, despite his outward protests. Her concern for his welfare meant that she did not think as poorly of him as he had feared.

 _Perhaps she was not offended by the kiss…if she was not, that does NOT mean you should let it happen again!_

He thought about it in every spare moment.

He was surprised and touched when Elsie brought him and the lads extra food. May had been unable to get to his home due to the flooding, and they were not having much success feeding themselves.

Elsie's cooking was unexceptional. Not as good as his mother's, or Alice's. But he would not complain about it as long as she took the edge off his hunger.

On the tenth straight day of rain, Alfred's cousin James arrived to help with lambing season. Charles felt his irritation tested by not only the usual worries and the weather, but by the young man's bravado. He wanted Charles to call him Jimmy. The shepherd refused. Whatever name he went by, he was undoubtedly good with the sheep.

From the moment he met Elsie, he attempted to woo her. She was annoyed by his attention and put him off.

Charles was secretly infuriated when he was told of the young man's plans. He lectured him, reminding him that he had come there to work for _him_ , not to accost local women. When the blond-haired man argued that he had every right to do as he pleased, Charles lost his temper.

"You are a fool," he shouted, "and if you insist on continuing this stupidity, I will demand you leave at once!" The young shepherd backed down, not wanting to be sent away.

"Blimey," Jimmy muttered to Alfred later that night, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say the old goat hankered after Elsie himself." He snorted, shaking his head in a vain attempt to rid his hair of rain. "As if she'd have someone like _him_."

"She'll have to have someone," Alfred said. "When the river goes down, Martha will be visiting her every day with proposals. Ivy told me Isobel told Richard more than a hundred men have asked after her."

Jimmy whistled. "That's no surprise."

It did not rain on the morning of the thirteenth day, and everyone dared to hope it might be over. But late in the afternoon Elsie was woken by the sound of thunder. She made her way outside and found Andrew in the meadow on the far side. He was miserable, grey shadows under his eyes, water on his face.

"The brook's rising fast," he yelled over the wind. "Frea and I moved the flock over here." He paused, looking despondent. "I don't know how high the water is going to get. Why won't the rain _stop_?"

"You did the right thing," Elsie reassured him. "We need to keep them away from the brook, higher on the hills-" They both looked up at the sound of a distant yell, further west where the brook poured down the hillside.

"Stay here," Elsie told the lad, before running across the meadow. She knew that voice, despite the wind and rain and distance.

The rising water had washed away part of the lower hill, and the hillside itself was a mess of mud. Her eyes widened at the sight before her.

Jimmy had part of the flock with him on one side of the thundering water. Charles and Alfred were struggling to save several animals on the other side. They were having to carry the sheep one at a time across the water, as the current would sweep them away otherwise.

And the water was rapidly rising.

Elsie picked her way through the mud over to Jimmy. "What happened?"

"The master and I were moving the flock further up the hill," he yelled, glancing at her. "Mud had gathered at that spot, just there-" he pointed to a little bend of the brook, "-and slowed the water. It just gave way as we were crossing, and the water gushed through. The sheep panicked and scattered. Two were washed downstream."

"Oh _no_ ," Elsie groaned. Jimmy nodded.

"Alfred was almost swept away, but the master caught him, helped him get his footing back. If we didn't have that rope, we'd have lost him. And half the flock." Jimmy was pale, his usual confidence gone. He bent down and gave his cousin a hand up onto the bank. Alfred set the ram on his shoulders down, and stood up, breathing hard. He whistled for Ve to move the ram with the rest of the flock.

"We have almost all of them. Master's getting Old Sally now, with one of her lambs." The tall youth took some offered bread from Jimmy. They watched Charles grab hold of the rope with one hand. A ewe sat on his shoulders, and the tiny lamb was tucked into his tunic. The water swirled around his thighs. Elsie bit her lip, both in worry for him as he made his way through the rushing water, and for the glimpse of his bare chest as the lamb wiggled under his other arm.

"Is that all of them?" she asked Jimmy, forcing herself to look away. Alfred went to help Charles onto the bank.

"No…one of the lambs is up there." He pointed across the brook, further up the hill on the other side. It huddled under a young birch tree.

"And there it will stay," Charles said, letting the lamb go. He kept a hand on Old Sally, who was bawling loudly, trying to get to the water. "If we are fortunate, the ground will hold there. But it feels as though the entire hillside will slide into the brook." His shoulders were hunched in disappointment.

"Can't we try to get it?" Elsie asked before she could stop herself. "For Sally's sake, at least?" Charles sighed and shook his head.

"No. It's too dangerous," he said. "Maybe…maybe the ground will hold. If only this rain would stop! If the little one stays there, we should be able to get it. _If_ the water goes down." He pulled his cloak further around his shoulders.

"That's not likely," Jimmy said under his breath. Both Charles and Elsie glared at him.

"We are fortunate to lose only three animals in this flood." The shepherd said. He and Alfred prodded Sally and her lamb toward the flock gathered further up the hill near a large rock. They ran back down the hill when they heard Jimmy shouting.

"What is wrong _now_?" Charles huffed in irritation. Jimmy pointed across the brook.

"I tried to stop her, told her not to go, but she wouldn't listen!"

Charles's heart dropped like a stone. Elsie, clinging to the rope, was nearly at the other side of the brook. The water was at her chest. She hauled herself out, and made her way up the hill toward the lamb.

The three men on the other side watched, unable to say a word. Charles realized he was holding his breath. She was stepping carefully, deliberately through the mud. But if the ground gave way…

Elsie reached the tree. The lamb had, thankfully, not moved from its spot. She reached with her crook and grasped it towards her in one motion. It clambered onto her shoulders. "There now," she said, making sure it sat securely, "let's go back to your mother, shall we?"

No sooner had she spoken than the ground began to move beneath her.

Instinctively, she reached for a branch on the birch tree. The mud built behind her, and there was nothing she could do except scramble as best she could into the tree, holding onto the slim branches.

The three men opposite were yelling, but she could not hear any clear words.

Everything moved quickly, but it seemed slow at the same time. Her heart beat faster as she and the animal were carried closer to the raging water. At the last moment, she let go of the tree and leaped in the direction of the rope.

 _If we are swept into the water, I will have no choice but to reveal myself._

She landed half on the bank, half in the brook, mud splashing her face. Somehow she managed to grab hold of the rope. The current was so strong she had to struggle to keep her footing, nearly losing her balance several times. The lamb mewled in her ear, and she was glad to hear it, to know it was safe. The cold water rushed around her, up near her shoulders. She had to hold her crook almost above her head.

Tossing it onto the opposite bank, she raised herself as high as she could so Alfred could grab the lamb. Charles knelt on the bank, holding out his hand. "Let go of the rope. I'll catch you," he bellowed over the roaring water.

Elsie let go of the rope and grabbed his hands. It was not a moment too soon. As he pulled her onto the bank, the tree opposite that they had used to tie the rope collapsed into the brook and was swept away.

Charles held her hands until she got up from the ground. He was so relieved, and so angry, he didn't know whether he wanted to shout at her or kiss her.

She tried not to think about the feel of his hands holding hers.

"Thank you," she said, getting to her feet. She was soaked, and covered in mud. Her cloak was gone. A red scrape was visible on her upper arm, making her wince. He stood back a moment.

"What on _earth_ were you thinking?" he blurted out, his face white. She looked up from her arm. Hair was stuck to the side of her face, mixed with mud. Even dirty, she was beautiful. The more she stared at him, the more he felt himself weakening. So he shouted instead. "Risking your life like that – are you mad? Or just a fool? I _told_ you it was dangerous! Are you incapable of listening to anyone?"

"I am not mad, nor am I a fool," she said, keeping her voice even. Her eyes flashed. "Yes, it was dangerous, but it hardly matters now. It's done." She nodded toward the flock, the younger shepherds watching it. Alfred was coaxing a small fire near the rock. "I am glad Old Sally has both her lambs." _Why did I bother?_

Charles clamped his mouth shut, feeling chagrined. _She did it for you. The least you could do would be to thank her. Not shout at her like she's one of your apprentices._

"Thank you," he said quietly. "I…am grateful for what you did." He swallowed, noticing her shiver slightly. "You must be cold. Why don't you come to the hut and warm yourself?"

Elsie nodded, hugging her arms. She was cold. But it was the timbre of Charles's voice that made her shiver.

He walked a little ahead of her down the hill and then up again to the hut. Thinking about what he had just seen.

 _When the ground moved, I was certain she would be swept away. And me, helpless to do anything about it._

 _I lost a woman I loved once. I thought it was going to happen again._

He stopped, reaching up to steady himself against the doorway inside.

 _No._

 _I cannot love her. I barely know her._

 _She is beautiful, and I am lonely. That is all._

He did not believe his own thoughts.

Elsie sat down by the fire with a sigh. Her hair dripped onto her shoulders, and she fingered it, hoping to get it to dry a little. She laughed. "I should not try to get too dry. I'll only have to go out in the rain again."

"True. Still, you need to warm yourself," Charles replied. "It would do no good to catch cold." He handed her a cup of mulled wine. He settled next to her and built the fire up. She sipped the wine, savoring its warmth.

"This is very good. Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you for inviting me here."

"You are welcome," he said. "I do apologize for shouting at you earlier. I was…worried," he whispered, feeling guilty because of his earlier temper. He saw her shiver again, and remembered something. He got up quickly and went to the other side of the room, behind the curtain. He returned holding a cloak. "Please take this," he said at her baffled look. "It is getting warmer every day, but you will need one when you watch the flock at night."

"You're very kind," she said. She reached for the cloak, trying not to see the softness in his gaze. Instead of giving it to her, he walked around her and put it over her shoulders. He was careful not to touch her.

She wrapped it around herself, nearly swallowed in its size. She breathed in the scent of the wind and rain, and a subtle but distinct musky odor. His scent. Taking a deep breath, she felt a strong rush that made her feel dizzy. She leaned toward the fire, to smell anything that would keep her from fainting. Even the smell of sulfur. She wrinkled her nose.

"It is the least I can do," he gave her a small smile. "You saved one of my lambs."

They talked of the sheep, of the new lambs. The rain. She asked after Daisy, and was glad to hear the girl was doing well.

Charles sighed, rubbing his hands together in front of the fire. "Mistress Penelope is ill again," he said sadly. "In her last letter, Daisy said Richard had been there to see her. He is not afraid Daisy will catch it; that's why she stayed. It seems…it is a malady for which there is no cure. I don't know Master Bill well, but I feel for him. And for Joseph. His son," he explained to Elsie. "Even when we know death draws near, it is never easy to witness."

Elsie nodded and drank more of the wine. She knew nothing of death, only that it was a fate that all mortals faced.

"Have you heard from Thomas?" she asked after they had been sitting quietly for a while. He shook his head.

"No, not since he returned to the palace. He did write to say he'd arrived, but nothing since." He touched his tunic to feel how dry it was. "I am surprised that _you_ asked after him. After he was rude to you."

"I can't say he was rude…well, perhaps a little," she admitted. "He cares for you, more than he says," she said, gazing into the fire.

"Does he? How-what did he say to you?" Charles felt like kicking himself. He wanted to know what Thomas said to Elsie, but not at the cost of embarrassing her. A faint blush spread across her cheeks.

"He is very protective of you," she said vaguely. "I should not have let my temper get the better of me." _Almost._ "Your son asked me a question that he knew I could not answer," she said, not looking at him. "He knew better than to ask."

 _Thomas can see what you cannot. That I am drawn to you. I am glad he asked if I thought you handsome._

It reminded her that she did not want to hurt Charles.

"Well," he said, shifting on the floor, "the next time he comes home I hope he does not bother you. Tell me if he does." _And I will talk to him._ He hardly dared hope Thomas cared for him. Their arguments and cold silences had convinced him his son felt little for him.

"I will," she agreed. She tilted her head, looking up. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" he asked, glancing at the window. The daylight was nearly gone. Then it hit him. "It's stopped raining!" He stood up and walked to the door, opening it. "Come and see," he said, almost in a whisper. He sounded like a boy. "The stars are coming out."

Elsie got up, holding the large cloak around her. Making sure she held it out of the fire, she noticed something she had not before. "Is this cloak blue?"

Charles glanced back at her before returning his gaze to the heavens. "Yes. I received it as a gift from a trader two autumns ago." He did not tell her he wore it only on special occasions, and not for everyday use.

He wore it only holy days, and when he stood watch at Eala's shrine.

She came to the doorway and looked out. The evening sky was darkening, but was lighter with the clouds moving to the east. They could see the remnants of the sunset, the gold and pink on the horizon. Above, in the deep blue, the small stars were winking at them.

He half-closed the door behind so that the light from the fire did not hinder the light above them. Elsie breathed in the fresh scent of the earth, the light breeze without rain.

"Marvelous," Charles whispered, enraptured.

"Yes," she breathed. He looked down at her, and was shocked to see her eyes not on the sky but on him. She startled when his eyes met hers, and quickly fixed her gaze on the stars.

His heart skipped.

Struggling to find words, he went for honesty. "Elsie…why have you been so kind to me? Bringing me food, telling me to go rest? I know I have not been very friendly toward you." _Except when I was much too friendly._

She leaned against the doorway. "I could ask you the same," she said quietly, her eyes glittering. "From the moment I arrived, I have been nothing but a nuisance to you." _And a temptation._

He waved off her protest. "Nonsense. I am simply trying to be a good neighbor."

"As am I."

He took a step closer. "It was very wrong of me to kiss you that day. I had no right to, and…I hope you were not offended by it."

"No," she whispered, unable to say anything else. _I can assure you the very last thing I am is offended._ "I did not mean to give you the wrong impression."

He meant to tell her she could never do that. That it was he who had lost his way. Forgotten who he was.

She wanted to thank him for the wine and for the cloak. That she was happy to help him. To be his friend.

His eyes flickered to her lips.

She leaned forward.

They kissed.

Once again, he was whole. Found. He remembered what it felt like to feel at peace.

His face scratched hers with the stubble on his chin. Every touch, every movement of his lips against hers felt even better than in the meadow.

 _You must stop. You_ _ **must**_ _stop._ _ **STOP.**_

The loud snap of the fire inside the hut gave her a reason to end it. She pushed him away, her hand against his chest.

"No," she gasped. She hardly knew if she meant for them to stop, or if she protested against her own restraint.

It did not matter.

Charles stumbled backwards, his eyes still dazed. What had happened? One moment, they were kissing, and now they were apart. All he knew was that once again he had gone beyond his usual behavior.

 _This woman will be the death of me._

"We can _not_ ," Elsie said, pressing the heel of her other hand against her forehead. She sounded as though she were trying to convince herself. Confusion and distress fluttered across her face. He cleared his throat and tried to find something to say.

Her hand still rested on his chest. Over his heart.

Charles took it and held it against him for a moment. She looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed. He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it.

 _I am not strong enough alone to hold myself back._

Gently untangling her hand from his, she bent over and picked up the cloak. He blinked at her, unaware that it had fallen from her shoulders. "I must go," she whispered.

He watched her walk up the hill toward her home.

* * *

She hardly slept that night, though she was exhausted. The night was still. The earth was at peace after the rain, and the quiet should have help her rest. But it did not.

Nor did his cloak. But she could not bear to cast it aside. Wrapped in its warmth, surrounded by his scent, she imagined his arms around her. His lips on her neck.

 _You see? This is why you must grant his prayer._

Her heart screamed in protest. She sat up, squeezing fistfuls of her hair.

His quiet plea before the candles would not leave her mind.

 _Eala, goddess, help me. Please. You who light the fire of desire in our hearts, you also have the power to take it away, to direct us to that which is for our good. Take away my lust for Elsie._

It was not that easy; even if she were at home, it was not like she could simply take away a man's desire for someone else. Were she to grant his request, Charles would not wake up in the morning devoid of all passion. But his lust for her would fade over time. And in its place would be…whatever he _actually_ felt for her.

Mortals had asked for her help before in similar incidents. If the circumstances were favorable, she had granted their prayers. Often the person had gradually come to look at the object of their affections through new eyes, mostly by seeing them as simply a friend.

But _should_ she help him? That was the real question.

This was the conundrum she found herself in. If he had _only_ lust for her, she would answer his prayer in an instant.

But he felt more than lust. Ever since the day they kissed under the ash tree, she had felt a faraway echo in his heart. The first stirrings of love. When he gave her his cloak, there was an intimacy in the act that went beyond his hands on her shoulders. He cared for her.

 _He loves you. Even though he is not fully aware of it now._

"This is why," she said to herself, staring into the red ashes of the fire, "you must grant his prayer. Despite him having real love. Delay his knowledge of it until you are gone." She swallowed hard. "There have been mortals who pined for others who did not care for them. You cannot allow his feelings for you to flourish." Her throat felt tight, as though someone was choking her. "You wished to learn how mortals live without love…" Her chest heaved, and her eyes burned. Hot tears flowed down her face and dripped off of her chin.

She had never cried before. Her shoulders shook.

"Is it so terrible that I cannot have him? One man? Is my thwarted desire breaking my heart within me?" she whispered, trying to stop crying. She bent her head on her knees. A sudden thought came to her, making her gasp.

"No." The word cut off from her lips. "I- _impossible_." She put her hand over her mouth.

 _I love him._

 _I._

 _Love._

 _Him._

She knew it was true. This strange, terrifying, exhilarating, yet peaceful, emotion was very familiar to her. It was her essence, the very fabric of her being.

It was as though Charles had somehow removed it and held it in his hands. To say that she felt exposed did not go far enough.

He, this mortal, unknowingly had _her_ at his mercy.

He could never know. He _must_ never know.

 _I should return home right now. If Father ever found out…_

A cold chill ran down her back, and she shivered.

 _If_ _ **Victor**_ _ever found out, he would make Marcas look rational._

Elsie sat motionless deep into the night. She could not grant Charles's prayer, not while he felt real affection. Nor could she convince herself to leave.

She remembered a second reason for not granting his prayer. It frightened her even more than her knowledge of his love for her. In his prayers for a wife, he had asked, among several things, for a woman he could love. Openly, deeply.

She laughed, then cried. Laying down flat on the floor, she wondered if any of her family or friends had ever found themselves in such a quandary. She highly doubted it.

 _He asked for a woman 'who will unlock the fire' in his heart._

 _Well. It seems he has found one._

 _You know there is no one else for him._

Just to be sure, she ran through her memory of countless women throughout the ages. Some came close, including Alice. But no one fit him quite like her.

She raised her head, turning it to the side. _How_ _did this happen? You wanted to put off marriage to Victor, and live among mortals. Not find a husband among them._

Flopping over onto her back, Elsie tugged at her hair. Tears pricked her eyes again.

In many ways it would be easier if she were to return home. She would marry Victor, and…live with him forever.

But she could not marry a mortal. The very idea was absurd. Not because Charles was absurd, but because it could never work. Eventually, he would die.

 _I cannot believe I am actually thinking about this. About him this way._

She could never only be his friend. She knew that. He was so much more to her. She had known it, somehow, in the depths of her heart from the moment she first saw him.

As dawn broke in a blue sky for the first time in fourteen days, Elsie made up her mind. She could not grant his prayer; it went against her own principles. But there was something she could do to forestall any movement he might make towards marriage.

As for him falling in love with her, she had no idea what to do about it. Or what to do with her own feelings. What she did know was that she could never tell _anyone_ how she actually felt. Least of all Charles.

* * *

A servant boy yawned, his mouth gaping open. He rubbed his eyes, peering out the door at her. He blinked, then his eyes went wide.

"Y-you want to see her _now?_ It is really early…" he glanced behind him. Elsie slipped him several pieces of gold. He nodded, then vanished. She fidgeted on the stairs, glancing around. The river roared a short distance away.

Finally, the boy returned. An annoyed, crotchety voice followed behind. "This had better be good. After all the rain, I'm in desperate need of my beauty sleep." A wrinkled woman with curly red hair opened the door wider. Her mouth fell open.

"The gods must have a sense of humor. The famous shepherdess herself. Elsie, is it?"

Elsie nodded. "Might I have a word, Martha?"


	9. The Village

"Come in, come in, Elsie," Martha waved her inside. She said something to the servant boy, who hurried away. Elsie stepped past her into the large room.

"Well." Martha put her hands on her hips, scrutinizing the woman before her. "I see now why I've been so busy. When the river goes down, it would not surprise me if I had visitors from Merton, Crowborough or even from as far away as Hexham." She went to sit down at a low table as the servant boy came back in, followed by a girl. The boy took Elsie's cloak, and she sat down across from Martha. The girl set cups of wine before them and a plate of fresh bread.

Martha took a bite of bread, dismissing the servants with her hand. "I am curious – how _did_ you get here? I imagine the road is still flooded by the brook and the river."

"It is," Elsie said, taking a drink of wine. "I had to walk far to find a place to cross." She fingered the bottom of her tunic, which was still damp from the water that had come up to her knees.

Martha nodded. "You must have come for something important. And at such an early hour!" She eyed Elsie beadily.

Elsie returned her stare. Martha blinked and took a drink from her own cup. "You say you have been busy," she said. "I assume you have had several men asking after me?"

"Oh, many more than several," Martha tapped the table with the cup. "I've had to make a list. Actually, I am glad you came _here_ , it saves me a bumpy chariot ride. I can begin giving you some of the proposals-"

"No," Elsie said firmly. "That-that's why I've come to see you." She took a deep breath. "I can accept no proposals. From anyone. You see…I am already engaged to be married."

Martha raised her eyebrows. "Is that so? To whom?" She was plainly skeptical.

"A blacksmith named Vincent. He lives in Loftus," Elsie had thought about it with care. She knew no one in Downton or the wider kingdom would know the place well. "My father arranged it."

The matchmaker sat back, frowning. She tapped her fingers on the table as a smile grew on her face. "Oh, but you are _clever_ ," she chortled, waving a finger in Elsie's direction. "An arranged marriage, an absent man? From Loftus, that far place? And a blacksmith, of all things?" She threw back her head and laughed hard. "If I tell that story to all the suitors who have come here – which is what I assume you want me to do – they will have to leave you alone. Blacksmiths are such moody characters. Most of the time they keep to themselves, but if they get riled…" she shook her head, still laughing. "well, there is a reason they all like the God of Fire so well. Smart woman, very smart!"

"But-" Elsie was taken aback, watching Martha laugh. She decided not to say anything further. Did it really matter if the matchmaker believed her or not? As long as Martha shooed off men, it did not.

"Yes, I would appreciate it if you could tell the suitors that I am not free." She said quickly. "I do apologize, I will be taking away from your trade."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Martha said cheerily, drinking more wine. "Really, it is the men's fault for not finding out more about you before they gave _me_ gold. Usually they ask me to find out those kind of things for them, but not this time. They gave me their money, told me to offer marriage." She smiled, fingering her necklace. "So often they have only one thing on their minds. And that one thing, my dear, is something you have in spades." She shook her head, the golden earrings she wore jingling. "The allure of a beautiful woman is something few men can resist." She set down her cup with a sigh. "There will be some broken hearts, but most of them will have their pride bruised more than anything," she said, a thoughtful look on her face. "I take it you have a good dog with you?"

"Yes, her name is Frea," Elsie said, wondering why she asked.

"It might be a wise plan for you to get another. One to watch the sheep, and another to watch over you," Martha said, her voice blunt. "Most men would be too afraid to risk the wrath of Eala to do harm to you, but one can never be too careful."

"Thank you," Elsie replied. She hesitated, then asked anyway. "Am I in danger?" _If someone dares to come after me, they_ _will_ _find more than they bargained for._

"From most of the men who asked after you, no," Martha said. "But there are a few hotheads. They may come after me, the messenger. I can't guess as to how they will react to the news. I am not worried about myself, but you live alone."

They chatted for a while longer. About guard dogs, and how predictable men were – until they were unpredictable. Martha's late husband, and her son still being unmarried. "It's rather embarrassing, considering my trade," the woman sighed. She was only half-joking. "But then, I would rather my Harold be happy alone than married and miserable. Cora and Robert have a beautiful marriage. I am glad for my daughter's sake that her husband loves her."

The servant boy brought Elsie's cloak back, and they walked to the door. Elsie was somewhat surprised with Martha. _She is confident, yes, and rather sharp. But she does care about people._

"Thank you for your help," Elsie said, extending her hand. "I am very grateful to you." Martha took it, and put her other hand over Elsie's, enclosing it between both of hers.

"I am happy to do it. I don't like to see anyone made unhappy, especially not a fellow woman. Now," a knowing gleam appeared in her eye. "Before you go, Elsie, are you _sure_ there isn't someone who has caught your eye?"

 _Is it written on my face? I did not even mention Charles!_

"Yes," she said steadily, holding Martha's gaze. "I am sure. After all, remember that I am betrothed."

"Of course, of course," the matchmaker brushed off the remark. "How could I forget?" She patted Elsie's arm. "Don't worry, you won't be bothered with unwelcome proposals. I will take care of your many admirers."

Elsie pulled her hood up as she left the house. When she was out of sight from Martha's, she slipped behind a tree. Tears were threatening again. Despite the bright morning, she felt as though clouds covered the sky.

 _Charles cannot marry me. Not if he believes I belong to someone else._

 _I_ _ **do**_ _belong to someone else, and I had better remember that._

Her heart ached.

Martha stood in front of her house, gazing in the direction that Elsie had walked. "You wear Charles's best cloak proudly, shepherdess. He would only give it to someone he holds in high regard," she murmured under her breath. She crossed her arms and sighed. "It matches your eyes too. If the shepherd has _not_ caught your eye, then I'm the Goddess of Love." She squinted into the sun. "Hopefully the two of you will get over your stubbornness sooner rather than later. With or without my help."

* * *

Elsie wandered, wiping tears from her face. The narrow, muddy path she walked wound its way between the back of several huts. A cow chewed its cud in a small pasture, while two girls and a boy played beneath a tree. Their childish laughter followed her, making her heart lift.

The distinct ring of a hammer against anvil made her look up. A forge sat off to her right. A thin man, with wispy hair, worked the bellows. His companion, a dark-haired man with broad shoulders, swung the hammer down. Sparks flew from the red-hot metal beneath.

She quickly turned and continued down the path, hoping to get away from the sound. Ahead was the temple of Eala.

On the south side of the stone building was a small garden enclosed by a low wall. Elsie entered through the gate and took a deep breath, relishing the sight before her. It was wild, rather overgrown, and in need of weeding.

 _Other than the weeds, it is very much like mine._

It made her smile.

Small pink roses were beginning to bloom in vines along the walls. She reached up and gently cut one off, smelling its fragrant scent. An arched doorway led into the temple itself. She stepped inside, hoping it was empty. It was.

Light poured through the great windows high up, the eaves of the roof sloped to ward off rain from coming inside. Along the western wall, in a cleft several cubits high, was a life-size statue of Eala.

She was completely naked.

Elsie raised her eyebrows. _My breasts are too small, and my thighs are too big. And my backside is certainly NOT that big!_

 _Is it?_

She turned over her shoulder to see. Sighing in relief, she ran a hand over her hip.

 _Well, they cannot get everything right. Bless them, they tried._

A large altar sat beneath the statue. Smaller altars, erected to love, to pleasure, and to fertility were arranged around the large room. Murals of her, recording different stories, decorated the walls. Her with her father. With Beryl, Beryl's husband, and their son. She winced at the picture of her in bed with Marcas.

Near the closed entrance doors was a picture of her with the Messenger of the Gods. They sat on a high mountain, looking out at the valley below. Elsie's face grew warm, and she put her hands over her flushed cheeks. It was extremely uncomfortable to recall that liaison. Though it was an enthusiastic affair while it lasted. On both sides.

 _He was a much more charming lover than Marcas. And we have stayed friends._

 _Not that either of us would ever...again._

 _He's my son-in-law now. He and Harmony are perfect together._

Moving along quickly, her eyes softened at the image of her with Harmony above the fertility altar. She kissed her fingers and touched them to her daughter's foot.

She wondered what Charles thought of all the stories. If they made him think the goddess Eala was lacking in decency.

 _I have never abandoned him because of a mistake he made._

Rose cuttings, flasks of oil, feathers from sparrows and even some white ones from swans were scattered on the wide altar underneath the statue. She reached beneath the oil lamp hanging to one side. Lighting the end of an incense stick, she left it burning with the others. The sharp aroma wafted through the room. Arranging the cloak around her, she sat down on a brightly patterned rug.

The flutter of sparrows high above and the sound of the wind were the only noises that disturbed the blessed silence.

Her mind and heart were anything but silent. For once, she envied the mortals. They could come to the temple and receive some peace, some feeling that their prayers would be heard, if not answered.

She could not even speak the desire of her heart out loud. And if she could, it was not as if anyone would grant it.

She dared not grant it herself.

 _You are a goddess. Charles is a mortal._

 _You are promised to Victor._

Tracing her finger around a white flower woven into the rug, her chin trembled. Her breath shuddered, and she wept, her head bowed. In her own sanctuary, she could unleash her grief.

What hurt most of all, was knowing that Charles loved her though he was not aware of it. It would have been better if he felt sheer lust. Or nothing.

Because eventually he would die. And his essence, his soul, would then live in Elysium. She knew nothing of the experience of death, but had some knowledge of Elysium.

Mortals did not bother much with the gods after death. There was no need. She would never hear his prayers, never hear his voice again.

He would forget her.

She would remember him for all eternity. The only being, mortal or divine, that she _loved_. She held Harmony close to her heart, and was extremely fond of her son-in-law, Beryl and others. But Charles held her heart, her very self.

He had since the moment she first saw him.

It almost made her want to be a mortal, just so he would remember her.

Forever was a very long time.

She gasped, wiping her tears with the cloak, before bursting into tears anew at his scent. Her sobs echoed from the walls for a short while. She held her arms, rocking back and forth, as she quieted to a whimper, though her face was still wet.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here this early."

Elsie sat up, hurriedly trying to clean her face. A dignified woman in a clean white tunic, wearing sandals, stood next to the arched doorway. She held a broom.

"Please, I don't want to disturb you," she said, beginning to sweep the floor. Her grey hair was bound up.

"You are not disturbing me," Elsie said thickly, getting to her feet, "I was just leaving." She made her way back toward the garden outside.

"Are you sure?" the woman asked, leaning on her broom. "If I can help you in any way, I would like to." Her eyes were soft. "No one should leave the temple in tears. I'm sure Eala would never approve." She smiled, warmth in her expression. Elsie could feel genuine concern from her.

A laugh bubbled out of Elsie's mouth before she could stop herself. "No, you are right. I think only tears of joy would do." She turned and sat on a wooden bench next to the doorway. The woman set the broom against the wall and joined her.

"I'm Isobel, priestess of Eala," the woman said. "You look familiar to me – have we met?"

"I would remember meeting you," Elsie said, smoothing her hair. "I'm Elsie, the new shepherdess."

Isobel's eyes widened. "Ah, Richard – that is, the healer has told me about you," she said. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last." She gently touched Elsie's shoulder. "I only wish you were in better spirits."

"As do I," Elsie said, dabbing at her eyes. There was no sense in trying to deny it. "I was crying because I'm sad," she managed to say, feeling like the word was inadequate. _Devastated. Destroyed._ "I will be separated from someone and…I care about them. I've done the right thing, I _know_ ," she emphasized, "but to go the way I've gone will mean pain. For me. And…" she bit her lip, her eyes welling again. "I don't know how to live with heartbreak. Without love," she whispered.

She trusted Isobel implicitly. Before her was a woman whose calling it was to listen.

And they were in _her_ house.

"What does Eala say about your dilemma?" Isobel asked, frowning.

Elsie huffed a sigh through her nose, glancing at the statue. "I used to think I knew what Eala would say. About everything." She shook her head. "But as for this, I do not have the first idea what she would say." _If I knew, I would tell_ _you_ _._

"Is there a sacred story which has a lesson you could use?"

Elsie laughed. The sound echoed on the stone floor. "No. Certainly not." _The Goddess of Love, in love with a mortal. Nothing that I have experienced has been anything like this._

"Hmmm," Isobel sat back against the wall. "Living with a broken heart is a very difficult thing. Very difficult." She tilted her head. "But living without love is the most difficult thing to endure."

"Can it be done?" Elsie cried. "If so, how?"

"Oh yes. It is not easy, but it can be done," the priestess said with conviction. "The best thing to do is to remember those who have loved you, and those you can still love. I have been separated from those I love as well," Isobel put her hand on Elsie's. "My husband and my son. But I can still love my grandson. My cousins and friends. I also try to look for the people who are loved by no one. Eala gave us love," she said quietly, "and of all the gifts of the gods, it is the most powerful. Lock it inside, and it will consume you. Share it, and you bless others even if they cannot recognize it."

There was a lump in Elsie's throat. She nodded, closing her eyes. Abiding by her own words seemed impossible, but that the mortals listened and lived by them meant more than she could say. "If only…" she licked her lips, "…if only I knew that what the other person felt would last, I could have something to hold on to." _If he remembers me even a little in Elysium, I can bear it._

 _It would still be hard, but the days would not seem so bleak._

"My cousin Violet, the other priestess here, has a saying," Isobel replied. "She says, 'Love is a gift. Once it is given, there is no ending it. It may show itself in different forms, but it never ends. Like the rain, or dew on the grass.'" She smiled, gesturing at a dove cooing in the eaves. "You say your decision brings you pain. Heartbreak. But remember that love, once given, lives on. If this person loves you, even a little, you will see it one day. Just keep your eyes open."

They sat for a while longer until Elsie got up. "Thank you," she said. "I cannot tell you how much the words you said meant to me."

Isobel smiled. "You are welcome." She picked up the broom again. "If you ever need to talk, please drop by. Violet or I will be here. And Elsie," she said before the shepherdess went through the doorway, "also remember that we cannot know what each day will bring. All I mean is that you should not give in to despair. You may yet have a happier day."

* * *

The village was awake when Elsie left the temple. She thought about slipping back down the narrow path, away from the growing number of people, but she didn't feel like being alone. Not yet. There would be plenty of time later for reflection, in the hills.

A boy drove a bunch of geese toward her. She moved aside to let them pass. Several women, talking incessantly with children in tow, carried water up the hill from the fast-flowing river. A man with a cart of fish grunted as the wheels caught in the mud. Another fed his horse next to his hut.

Her belly complained.

She had eaten hardly any bread at Martha's house. The market was buzzing, sellers calling out to those passing by. Elsie bought several figs from an elderly couple and continued walking. The smell of fresh bread, tinged with honey, floated in front of her. A familiar figure stood nearby.

"Ivy!" The young girl looked up from placing several loaves on the table in front of her. She smiled when she saw Elsie, who felt her heart warm at the simple gesture. "It is nice to see you. I didn't know you sold your bread!"

"Not always," the sandy-haired girl said. "Only when I make a lot of it. Uncle Richard doesn't mind."

"I would like two loaves, please," Elsie reached into the small pouch at her waist. "My bread is not nearly as good as yours."

Ivy wrapped two loaves and gave them to her. She shook her head at the coins Elsie offered. "It's a gift," she insisted.

Elsie swallowed hard. She did not want to accept it, but wanted to acknowledge Ivy's kindness. "Thank you for that," she said quietly. "But on one condition. At shearing time, would you like some wool? You can use it to weave a new tunic."

Ivy's eyes brightened. "I _would_ like that! Anna wrote to me of a new purple dye that she's seen at the palace. It would be nice to have a new one," she looked down at her faded blue tunic.

She and Elsie talked about different dyes and the colorful tunics the women at the palace wore. Daisy had written to Ivy describing them. Both girls dreamed of wearing the bright colors.

Elsie stepped aside several times as to let Ivy sell her bread, but she was in no hurry to get home. She would not have to watch the sheep until the sun had reached its peak. And it was interesting to see the various people who stopped to buy bread, though none greeted her. This was by design. She kept her hood up, despite its warmth, and was careful to keep her face lowered.

"I hope you don't mind me keeping you company," Elsie said once. "I must admit, it is nice to talk to someone who can answer back." Ivy laughed.

"I can imagine," she said. "I'd get terribly lonely if I had to stay in the hills all the time – though Alfred says it isn't so bad. He thinks of poetry when he watches the sheep," she suddenly blushed.

 _And what kind of poetry does he think of?_ Elsie wondered in amusement, but did not question her further.

"Oh, good morning, Master Joseph," Ivy said, her face still pink. "I expect you and Master John are hungry."

The thin man from the forge that Elsie had seen earlier nodded. "We've been up since before dawn," he said, dropping several coins onto the table. "With all the rain, it's been terrible to keep the fire up. We decided to take a rest though," he picked up one of the loaves and tore off a piece. "Both to eat and because John's knee is bothering him. All the rain does that."

"That's too bad," Ivy said sympathetically. "Do you know if the poultice Uncle made for him helps?"

Joseph nodded, chewing and swallowing bread. "It does indeed. He thinks it's just the dampness in the air, and working this morning at the forge made it ache a bit more. He'll be better once he rests a bit. And," he picked up another loaf, his eyes twinkled, "once he has something to eat." He put the bread under his arm and reached for the other when he suddenly stopped and stared at Elsie.

She blinked, not realizing she had been looking at him. Joseph went red.

"Hello," Elsie said, breaking the awkward pause. "I'm Elsie."

The blacksmith's partner squeaked before he spoke. "Pleased to meet you," he rasped. "My name is Joseph."

His discomfort, she gleaned, was more from the surprise of her beauty, and less from pure desire, though she detected that feeling from him. But there was something else that surprised her.

 _He loves someone who cannot return it. He cannot show his love._

She understood that all too well.

She pulled herself back into the moment. "It's nice to meet you. How do you like working at the forge?"

"Oh," Joseph swallowed. "It's not the trade I would choose, but I can't complain. John's an old friend. He treats me well." He glanced at the bread in his hands. "If I want him to keep doing so, I'd better take him this."

Elsie was about to respond, when she caught a glimpse of a tall figure at a nearby stall. Her heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. "I-I had better get on as well. The sun is higher than I thought," she stuttered, her eyes far away. "Ivy, thank you ever so much for the bread."

Ivy said goodbye, and both Elsie and Joseph walked away in the same direction. She pulled the hood closer on the side of her face, hoping Charles did not see her. She was not prepared for that. Joseph walked next to her, his mind elsewhere.

Both were dragged from their thoughts by an angry voice.

"It's none of your concern _what_ I sold him! Mind your tongue, woman!" A large man, with a belly too wide for his body roared at a dark-haired woman next to a crowded stall. It was full of wooden staves and wheels. Joseph stopped dead in his tracks.

"You _cheated_ him, Peter," the woman said in a low, but clear voice. "The wheel will break before he ever reaches Painswick! He knows you sold it to him!" She balled her hands into fists. "If he comes back here, you will be lucky if he only wants his money back."

"How dare you!" shouted Peter, grabbing the woman's arm and roughly pulling her closer. "I'll teach you to talk to me that way-"

To Elsie's horror, he backhanded the woman so hard she reeled and fell over. The slap seemed to vibrate across the short distance into Elsie's own body.

She only just saved herself from unleashing her full fury by balling her own fists. The ground beneath her heaved with her repressed rage.

She had no time to wonder if anyone noticed before Joseph flew past her, launching himself at Peter. Elsie's rage evaporated in shock. Gone was the mild-mannered man who talked with her and Ivy. In his place was a wild temper, barely restrained.

"You _beast_ ," Joseph hissed, Peter's tunic clutched in his hand. "By the gods, if you _dare_ touch her again-"

Peter seemed untroubled. He grinned, showing yellow teeth. "It is my right. She is my _wife_ ," he said. "I can do whatever I please with her, it is no concern to you, little man!"

Elsie hurried over to the woman, who was struggling to her feet. A dark bruise bloomed on her face, and blood trickled from her lip. Another bruise, fading around her left eye, was visible up close. She took Elsie's offered hand.

"Here, take this," Elsie whispered, untying a cloth from the bread she carried and handing it to her. "For your lip-"

Joseph yelled at Peter again. "You do _not_ have the right to treat her like that! I will not stand for it! And neither will the priestesses!" He turned and spoke quickly. "Phyllis," he said, "Go to the temple. They will look after you, you don't need to stay here-"

He lost his grip as Peter shoved him to the ground. "You're not going _anywhere_ ," the big man sneered at his wife. "If you try, I'll bring you back like I did the last time, by your hair if I have to." He stopped, seeing Elsie.

"Well, well, well…" his tone was so lewd it made bile rise in Elsie's throat. "Who are you?" His face hardened in anger. "Trying to help my Phyllis, are you?" He leered, his eyes raking over her body. It made her feel more naked than the statue. "When I'm finished punishing her, you'll be next." He took two steps closer to them, pausing only to shove Joseph down again with his foot.

Elsie put Phyllis behind her. The air around them thickened and crackled with a hidden intensity, waiting to be vented. "You will not touch her, or me."

Peter stopped, but smirked at her. "Feisty, eh? That's the way I like my women. Makes them more…challenging," He straightened up, his eyes suddenly widening in fear. Elsie was momentarily confused. He was not looking at her, but somewhere behind her.

"If you touch either of them, Peter, I will break your neck."

Charles.

 _He is as furious as I am. More._

The wheelwright took a step backward before turning and running the other way. He only made it a few steps before Joseph tripped him with a stave. He fell hard onto his face in the mud.

In a flash, Charles moved past Elsie and Phyllis and caught up to Peter. He dragged the man to his feet, then picked him up by his tunic. In one hand.

Elsie watched the shepherd slam Peter into the stall, the burly man's feet off the ground. Her eyebrows shot up at his strength. She swallowed, seeing the muscles bulging in his arms.

"Let me go," Peter croaked, trying to wriggle free.

"You miserable _swine_ ," Charles said coldly. "Joseph, run and get John. Tell him to bring a chain."

Joseph looked back at Phyllis once more, who nodded at him. He then vanished behind the stall. Elsie put her arm around the woman, who was shaking, but looked remarkably calm. For the first time, she was aware of a small, growing crowd watching them.

"Phyllis…" Peter called. "For the love of Eala, tell him to put me down! You know I only hit you because you defied me, you disobedient wench-"

" _Enough_ ," Phyllis cried. She gently untangled Elsie's arm from around her shoulders. Her dark eyes blazed. "You are a liar, Peter. You know you hit me because you enjoy it!" She trembled for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I am finished with you. I will speak before the priestesses, and we will no longer be married." There was a finality, a quiet strength in her voice. "You will _never_ see me again."

"Well done," Elsie murmured. She did not know Phyllis, but was mightily affected by the woman's resolve. Phyllis turned to her.

"Thank you for helping me…"

"Elsie," she supplied. Not wanting to be anywhere near Peter, in case she would lose control, she asked Phyllis, "Do you want me to go with you to the temple?"

"No, thank you," Phyllis almost smiled. Elsie could feel the weight lifting off her. "I know the way. Thank you, Master Shepherd," she said as she passed Charles. She did not even glance at her husband.

"You are welcome," Charles said, his grip as tight as ever on Peter. Elsie busied herself picking up the bread Joseph had dropped. Thankfully, it had not landed in the mud. She had barely stood up again when he and the blacksmith appeared. John leaned on a crutch.

"We just passed Phyllis," he said, his eyes smoldering in Peter's direction. "You fiend, you deserve to be whipped for this!"

Charles dragged Peter from the stall, holding him while John chained his hands together. "I will go with you to see Murray. In a moment," he said to John. He then raised his voice, addressing the witnesses watching. "All right, you've all seen what happened. Move along." The crowd of people dispersed, taking a great deal of chatter with them. Elsie turned to Joseph.

"Your bread," she handed it to him, not seeing Charles look her way. Joseph took it.

"Thank you," he said. "And thank you for helping Phyllis. She-she needs a good friend."

"And she has one in you," Elsie said, so quietly only he could hear. He reddened slightly, but gave her a small smile. He then went to help John take Peter away. The chained man's head was bowed, his shoulders slumped.

She was still standing in the mud when she was aware of Charles beside her. "You rush across a roaring brook to save a lamb, and brave a beastly man's temper to help a woman you don't know," he said, his eyes soft. "He would have hurt you given the chance," he glanced over his shoulder. "Does _nothing_ frighten you?"

Elsie drank in his presence, her earlier grief set aside. He was here. And worried about _her._

She could not bring herself to think it wrong. "Peter could have hurt _you_ ," she turned his question. "I am grateful you were here, as is Phyllis, of course."

"He would have tried to hurt me," the rumble of his voice made her mouth go dry and something stir low, "but he would not have touched me. Promise me, Elsie," he said, looking her in the eye. She reluctantly returned his gaze. "Promise me you won't go looking for trouble." He quirked a grin, and her knees wobbled. "You seem to have more than your share. For one woman."

"I won't go looking for it," she said, her voice shaky. _I have plenty without having to search for it._ "I have to get home. Alfred is waiting for me to watch the flock. Thank you," she said. She could not resist touching his arm as she passed him. She heard him suck in his breath. "Thank you for helping us."

"You're welcome," he stuttered. She let go of his arm before the urge to kiss him overwhelmed her.

 _I hope the news from Martha brings him to his senses._

 _What frightens me is that I have so little control over mine._

 _Over my heart, body, or mind._

* * *

 **A/N: All of the reviews, comments, reblogs, etc. are very appreciated. This is such a wild story that I'm happy other people want to keep reading it! This chapter got away from me a bit – lots more introductions. Not much Chelsie here, but I hope the little bit was enough. The next chapter will be Thomas's perspective. I promise the story will pick up more, I feel like it's not going as fast as I planned, but there's so much to say. Thank you for all your support!**


	10. The King's Announcement

**A/N: This was a very long chapter that got chopped in two. So there will certainly be another update tomorrow. This is from Thomas's perspective – I hope you enjoy this!**

 **Your reviews and support give me life! Thank you!**

The sun beat down, hanging at its apex in the sky. It shone on a great stone building which was surrounded by high walls. Outside, guards at the gate huddled in the little shade they could find. A young man with wavy brown hair made his way down several steps into the courtyard. He glanced around.

Hardly anyone was about during the heat of the day.

He walked quickly to the northern gate with a quick stride, knowing the guards would not question him if they thought he was on an errand.

Going out, he made his way along the northern wall to a myrtle tree. Its purplish leaves shaded a youth who sat beneath its branches.

"I thought I might find you here."

Thomas looked up, his face melting into a smile. "And so you have. Won't her Ladyship be needing you?"

"No, she and Lady Mary dismissed us. They're resting now." The young man sat down, his arm brushing against Thomas's. He reached over and softly fingered his black hair. Thomas turned at his touch, and they kissed.

A gentle breeze fluttered the leaves above them.

"Edward," Thomas whispered, breaking away, "we can't. Master Henry won't like it that we're out here in the first place, and if anyone sees us-"

"He is not that strict," Edward countered, their noses touching. He sighed. "But you're right. We should not risk it." A small smile turned up the corner of his mouth. "As much as I like to. The last time we were caught, it was – what? Three lashings? Four?"

"Four," Thomas reminded him. Servants were punished if they were found being idle, or in dalliance with one another; much less both. "Still," he sighed, scooting backwards, his back against the trunk of the tree, "it's better than the ten you'd get if I was a maid, instead of a lad."

Edward crossed his arms. "True." He nodded at the papyrus roll in Thomas's hand. "A letter from Daisy?"

"Yes. I just started reading it. She sends her greetings to you, hopes you are well."

Edward's face flushed. "Does she? Does she really?"

"I should be offended by your lack of faith in me." Thomas pretended to pout. "I'll read it out loud. She has a lot to say."

Mistress Penelope had died, and Master Bill and Joseph were naturally very sad. Daisy had cried while helping Bill and his niece prepare the body for burial. Thomas was surprised to read that his sister helped them, although he was also proud of her for doing so. "She's not a child anymore," he murmured.

With his wife's death, Bill had no wish to stay in their home. He had moved back to the village to live with his son. Daisy, therefore, had returned home to live. She still went to the weaver's every day, she said, but since there was no woman in the home, it was not proper for her to stay with them.

 _It would not surprise me if there_ _was_ _a woman living there soon. Phyllis comes by nearly every day. I know you don't approve of them, but the priestesses ended her awful marriage to Peter as soon as she asked them to. Everyone here expects Joseph to ask for her hand. Whenever he speaks to her, she blushes. It's only right she should have some happiness!_

"Well, I'll be," Thomas said smiling. The thought that Phyllis was rid of Peter once and for all was the best news he had heard for a long time. "Maybe the gods _are_ real."

 _The only trouble is that the village needs a new wheelwright. Joseph is the best person to take over, but he wants to wait until someone can take his place at the forge. I hope Master John can find someone to help him._

 _I like being home again. I get to see Ivy and my other friends often. Even though I miss Mistress Penelope, I would rather be home with Papa. He is well, and sends his love to you. He hasn't said anything to me about Martha. But I know she hasn't visited him. The flood washed out the road, and it's still very hard for chariots to get through. And Papa has not gone anywhere except when he's at the shrine. Four lambs were born in the last seven days alone._

 _I am weaving Papa a new cloak. I'm sure he will be happy with a new one, especially for Midsummer. It can be our gift to him. You know how he likes us to look our best. Would you send me some of your wages so that I can repay Master Bill for the cloth?_

 _Love,_

 _Daisy_

"I will send her some gold," Thomas said. "More than she needs, and I'll tell her to buy some cloth for herself as well. She needs a new tunic." He frowned, reading a part of the letter again.

"What?" Edward asked, his chin resting on Thomas's shoulder, his arm around his waist.

"Strange," Thomas mused. "If Daisy wants to make our father a new cloak, then she should. But I don't see why he would need a new one so soon. She says he would like one," he tapped the papyrus, "for Midsummer. For the holy day, you know. But he already _has_ his fine blue cloak. He hardly ever wears it, except for festivals or when he's at the shrine. Maybe something happened to it." He shrugged, at a loss to consider why his father's prized possession would have to be replaced.

"What happened to what?" A curious female voice asked.

Instantly, both young men leaped to their feet. Edward ran a hand through his hair, and Thomas smoothed down his tunic before letting out a relieved breath.

"Oh, it's only you."

Sybil stood laughing at them, her hands on her hips. "Honestly, the pair of you look as guilty as if you'd just been caught stealing the king's best wine."

"We thought you were Sarah!" Edward said. Sybil pursed her lips, her grin widening.

"I could have been Anna. She wouldn't blab to Master Henry either."

"That's because Anna has a heart, unlike the queen's favorite." Thomas snorted. His heartbeat returned to normal.

"The queen sent me to look for you. _Both_ of you. You're wanted in her rooms," Sybil said, turning and leading them back along the wall to the gate.

Guards leaned in the gateway holding their spears. Several openly ogled at the raven-haired young woman while the trio passed through. One soldier was bold enough to whistle at her. Edward and Thomas glared at the offender.

It worried Thomas that the new servant girl seemed so artless. She acknowledged the admiration of men, but was not fazed by their attention at all. He and Edward had an agreement between them to keep an eye on her. They had also spoken to Anna, who agreed to do the same.

They walked across the dusty courtyard and through an archway. Climbing several stairs, they came out again in a terraced garden. The heavy scent of blooming roses was everywhere. For some reason, the way Sybil walked bothered Thomas. He shook his head. _Stop being ridiculous._

 _She is_ _not_ _Elsie. Edward already thinks you're going mad, thinking about her so much. Forget about the shepherdess!_

He was glad Daisy had not mentioned her in her letter.

Sybil approached another doorway on the far side of the garden. Another man holding a spear stood guard. At their approach, he opened the heavy door. "Her Ladyship is waiting for you."

The queen and Lady Mary sat in the bright room, their servants with them. Sunlight came through the wide windows that faced north, glimmering on the colored tapestries covering the thick stone walls. Most of the heat of the day was kept out, leaving the room cool.

"Ah, Thomas, there you are," Cora said when they entered.

"My lady," he bowed. She smiled at him.

"Good, and Edward too." Edward bowed next to him. "I hope Sybil didn't have to run around the entire palace searching for you!" She looked at the young woman.

"No, my lady," Sybil spoke up from her place next to Anna, who was mending a dress. "I found them quite easily."

Anna glanced at Thomas. A smile quirked her lips, and she half-raised a blond eyebrow at him. He ignored her expression. _Fine. Tease us later._

"I wanted you all here to tell you the news," Cora's pale blue eyes danced. "It seems that the king has decided that the court will go south for the summer. There is an old hall that his father was fond of. It's in the hills near the village of Downton, and that is where we will stay."

 _Downton?_

Thomas nearly forgot himself, and opened his mouth to speak before quickly shutting it. Instead it was Lady Mary who spoke.

"I still don't see why Papa insists we _all_ go," she said, her dark eyes flashing. "I can stay here with George. There is nothing for me there."

"Your mother-in-law lives there," Cora said, a hint of impatience in her voice. "And she would like to see her grandson _before_ he grows to manhood. And you, for that matter. Family is paramount to your father, as it is to me. As it should be for you. Don't you agree, Sarah?"

"Oh yes, my lady," the sullen, dark-haired servant nodded. "There is nothing more vital than one's family."

Edward only slightly raised his eyes to the ceiling, and Thomas almost laughed.

Mary glared at Sarah. "I do not need to be reminded of the importance of family, especially not by a servant." She was swiftly checked by a sharp look from her mother.

"It has been decided. We will _all_ go, except for the garrison to keep watch, and several of his Lordship's men." Cora turned to Thomas. "I asked the king personally if you and Edward could go with us, and he had no objection. I understand _you_ have family quite close to Downton."

"Yes, my lady," he said, pleased she remembered. "My father and my sister. Daisy."

"I remember," Cora spread her tunic around her. "She's apprenticed to the weaver?" Thomas nodded. "Well, we will have to make sure you have time to see them while we are there."

As she finished speaking, the door opened once more and the guard called, "His Lordship!" Everyone who was not already standing got to their feet, including Lady Mary. Only the queen stayed where she was.

Robert bounded into the room. He went directly to his wife and bent over, kissed each of her hands, and then kissed her on the mouth.

Thomas felt his face burn. He should have been used to it after all this time, the open affection they shared even in front of the servants. But it reminded him in a small way of his own parents, of their gentle affection and mutual respect.

Not that his father had ever kissed Mother like that. None that he had seen. But he doubted it.

 _Theirs was no grand passion, but they cared for each other._

The king beamed, looking around at the servants. "I hate to disturb you all, but I take it the queen has told you of our plan?"

"I have," Cora said, her face pink. Robert went and kissed Mary on the cheek.

"Good. We will be leaving in four days' time so that we will arrive before Midsummer. I do hope you all will be happy where we are going," the king leaned against a pillar. "Every summer when I was a boy the court traveled there. It's a lovely place, in the hills above the river." He looked at his daughter. "Your grandmother is particularly fond of it. We will be seeing much of her there, I expect."

"Will we?" Mary raised her eyebrows. "My, that is high praise, coming from her."

She left soon after to go be with George. Anna followed behind, exchanging a silent smile with Thomas and Edward.

Robert bade the two lads to go with him when he went out. They spent much of the rest of the day carrying various parcels up and down the stairs, and helping Master Henry arrange the journey. By the time they were dismissed, the sun had long since vanished.

Around a small fire in the courtyard sat several figures. The half-moon glowed above them. Edward sank down with a sigh, stretching his legs out. Thomas fell heavily onto his backside and nearly toppled over. The sandy-haired youth next to him steadied him.

"His Lordship kept both of you running all day," he looked over at Edward. "I envy you. At least it means you'll get to go with the court when they leave."

"You're staying, Ethan?" Edward asked. The young man nodded glumly, staring into the fire.

"Cheer up," Anna patted him on the shoulder. "You'll have the run of the place once we're all gone."

"Me and other boys the king can do without," he grumbled. "And the guards. It won't be fun. Master Henry has already spoken with the Captain. I'll be fetching and running for a pack of soldiers all summer. At least you can go home for a change."

"It's not home for me," Edward reminded him. "My home is here, as much as it is anywhere." Sybil got up and handed him and Thomas some fish and bread.

"You must be hungry. Cook wanted to give it to the dogs, but I thought you needed it more."

Thomas groaned, his belly aching at the sight of food. " _Thank_ you," he said. "You are a goddess. Truly." Edward nodded his thanks at her through his full mouth.

"You've ingratiated yourself with the family, now with the servants," sneered Sarah, her eyes coldly peering at Sybil. "No one can live without you, you've seen to that!"

"She was just being kind," fired Anna. "Leave her alone!"

"And I suppose you were just being kind when you sat up all night with my Lady when she was ill?" Sarah spat out at Sybil. "I'm not afraid to say what I think – you want _my_ place. Well, young missy, you're not going to get it, not if I have anything to do with it!"

Sybil stood with her hands behind her back. "I am happy to have any place where I am needed," she said. Her face was serene, and it was plain the older woman had not intimidated her. "I sat up with the queen to let you rest. I know how faithful you are to her – you sat up with her two nights without sleep."

Sarah could find nothing to say to that. It was true. After an awkward silence, Ethan broke it.

"Are you excited to go to Downton, Sybil? Have you ever been there?"

"I _am_ excited," she said, a beautiful smile spreading across her face. "No, I've never been there. I was surprised when the queen said she wanted me to go." She warmed her hands over the fire. "I have not been at court very long. I was not expecting such kindness."

"I'm glad you're coming," Anna smiled up at her. "I want to show you my favorite spot by the river. And you can meet Thomas's sister, Daisy."

"You talk as if we'll have free reign to run all over creation," Sarah muttered. "You'll see. They'll keep us working from dawn till past moonrise." She got up. "Good night. I hope you all have great dreams of your summer, because they're the best you'll see." She stalked away in the direction of the female servants' rooms.

"What a sour woman!" Anna cried as soon as she was out of earshot. "You'd think she'd be happy going to Downton, her nephew Alfred lives there!" She shook her head. "She's the queen's favorite, but I don't know why. There's nothing but vinegar from her!"

"Don't, Anna," Sybil frowned at her. "Let her be. She's angry with herself, and so she takes out her anger on everyone else. We should show her compassion."

She looked at the others to find them staring at her, unconvinced. She raised her eyebrows. "There is no harm in trying," she said, before turning away from them.

"Are you going to bed? I'll be a little while," Anna said.

"Not yet. I do so love when the moon is clear," Sybil gazed rapturously above them. "I'll sit in the window upstairs. It has a better view. Good night, everyone."

"Mind you don't fall asleep, and fall out," Anna called after her. The young woman nodded and disappeared into the same doorway that Sarah had gone through.

Ethan scratched his head. "She's beautiful and kind all right, but I don't know where she gets her crazy notions." He yawned and stretched. "Good night."

After he went to bed, the three remaining sat watching the fire and the night sky. Thomas was tired, but he wanted to breathe in the fresh air before going to sleep in the stuffy men's lodgings.

"What do you have there, Anna? A letter?"

She looked up from the small papyrus roll she held. "What? Oh nothing much," she said, setting it aside. "Just a message I received yesterday."

"From who?"

She avoided his eyes, a blush evident on her pale face even in the dim light. "No one."

He knew she rarely received letters. "From a man?"

"Let her keep a secret if she wants to," Edward nudged him in the back. "If she wants to share it, she will. Stop being so nosy." He smiled, but Thomas knew he was serious.

"Fine, keep it to yourself," he muttered. He rested on his hands, tilting his head back, his eyes on the stars.

 _I'm going home for the summer._

He was unsure if he was happy about it or not.

 _What will I find there?_


	11. Sybil

**A/N: I updated just yesterday, so if you haven't read chapter ten, do that first. This one turned into another marathon, with a ton going on. I went off on a little tangent in the middle, only because one of my favorite non-Chelsie moments in Downton Abbey begged to make an appearance. And it will be important to the story eventually.**

 **Thank you to those who have reviewed, and who offered their thoughts/theories on Sybil. By the end of this chapter, you will know who she is. It will hopefully answer several questions.**

 **There are a lot of character interactions in this chapter that were necessary. The story won't always be like this; I know you're all impatient to see more Chelsie! Please keep telling me your thoughts, if you have time. The chapter after this one will be very short, much like the Prologue.**

 **Oh, and to clarify about the swimming: this is a fantasy AU story based on Greek mythology. People swim nude.**

 **I love you all. –meetmeinstlouie**

* * *

Elsie tossed and turned on the sheepskin. No matter how she tried, sleep eluded her. She knew the best thing since she couldn't rest would be to go out and tell James she would watch the flock, but she would be watching them all day.

 _What I really want is to see Charles. Just to talk._

 _I can be careful._

 _We can just be friends._

 _Right. Friends._

 _Keep saying it. Someday it might be true._

She sighed, flopped on her back. She knew he was still ignorant about her engagement. How he would regard her, what he would say once he did know, she had no idea. All she knew was that she wanted to see him. More than anything.

Without there being sheep to distract them, or others present.

 _Not likely._

Not that she could see him when the night sky still had far to go before the dawn.

She suddenly sat bolt upright.

 _Yes, I can._

 _Alfred said he was keeping watch at Eala's shrine tonight._

She was up, had splashed water on her face, and had pulled the blue cloak over her tunic before any other thought passed through her mind.

 _What if he doesn't want to talk to me? He is serious about the watch. What if he's offended that I'm there?_

 _The last time it ended with me spraining my ankle._

"Oh, get a hold of yourself," she muttered. If he did not want to speak to her, she would come back and watch the flock. But she would not give him a reason to be offended this time. She would not enter the shrine.

 _I learned my lesson._

* * *

It was the most silent time of the night. Not a breath of wind stirred. It was so quiet Charles could hear himself breathing. He hummed, if only to hear something else.

 _Only me and the stars are awake here._

Above, he watched the hunter chasing the two bears. _Chasing, but never catching them. The elusive prey._

 _Perhaps he continues the chase because it is what gives him life. His purpose._

He had never felt more alive than during the last three moons. Since the spring began. He felt as though he had awakened with it, and was flowering like everything around him.

 _She has done this to me. Since the morning she walked into the shrine._

 _I must talk to Martha again. Soon. She will probably tease me for changing my mind._

At first, he had worried when it was evident Eala had not answered his prayer regarding Elsie. But as time went on he felt more confident that what he felt was meant to be. What he felt for his beautiful neighbor had not gone away. If anything, it had grown stronger. But it was not just desire.

She had earned his respect during the difficult lambing season, and especially after the flood. He knew he could trust her. She was a woman who sometimes courted trouble; the business with Peter gave him no doubt of that. But he admired her for her courage and for her willingness to help others. It made him feel rather ashamed that he had not always done the same in his own life.

 _She deserves a man of exemplary character._

He would do anything to be worthy of her.

Part of him could not believe he was even _thinking_ of being so bold. Another part of him whispered real fears about what Daisy, and especially Thomas, would say.

He had no such fears about what Elsie would say. The irony nearly made him laugh.

 _She likes you. The way she reacts when we have kissed…_

 _She may even love you._

 _If she loves me even a little, it is enough._

The thought of their last kiss, under a star-filled sky much like the one above him, gave him pause. She _had_ pushed him away then. But later in the village, _she_ had touched _him_ , thanking him for helping her and Phyllis.

 _There is no other woman I want. At my time of life I may as well be honest._

"Charles?"

He jumped, so startled he fell against a pillar, dropping his crook. The focus of his thoughts stood only a few feet away, barely visible.

"Oh, I am sorry," Elsie said, biting her lip. "I hoped you heard me coming, I was trying to make as much noise as I could. I didn't want to startle you."

"It's no trouble," he said, hastily standing straight up again. "I was far away." He pulled his cloak further over his shoulders. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

Her eyes were tiny pinpricks of light. "No, no. I couldn't sleep."

Now that she was close to him, he felt his heartbeat increase. "Why…why not watch the flock? Or at least talk to James? He prefers to have someone to talk to, I think." _Why did you say that? Do you_ _want_ _her to leave!?_

She bent her head a little, so he couldn't see her face. "If it comes to it, I would rather talk to you than to him." She looked back up at him, trepidation in her voice. "Do you mind?"

Mind? He was ecstatic. He tried not to show it.

"Not at all," he murmured. "It's nice to have a companion."

He had no idea how much she adored the sound of his voice. "As long as said companion is not invading the shrine," she teased.

"True!" They exchanged amused smiles.

In many ways, simply standing next to him was a comfort. Yes, she loved him, yes she desired him; yet his presence alone soothed her. It was enough at that moment to be at his side.

 _This is what it feels like to love someone. To be near him, to see him. To know he is there._

"Shall we take a walk?" he asked after a short time. "I usually walk around the circle several times during the night, both to keep a watch everywhere and," he grinned, "if need be, to keep myself awake."

"Are you tired now?" She let him walk on her right, so that she was nearer the pillars on her left.

He shook his head. "No. Especially not now that you're here." He bit his tongue, drawing in a breath. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her off. He tried to stutter out an apology. "I-I didn't mean to be improper-"

Elsie laughed. She felt her face grow warm, and was glad it was too dark for Charles to see it. "You are the last person I could see being intentionally risqué."

The memories of their shared kisses were heavy between them.

He did not want to take the chance again, to push her too far. Especially since he intended to ask for her hand in the not-too-distant future.

She dared not. If she was going to attempt to only be his friend, a kiss would be far too intimate.

He cast his mind aimlessly, trying to distract himself from the way she walked next to him, the sway of her hips. They approached the entrance to the shrine. The glow of the torches illumined her hair.

His mind wandered again. Only this time his thoughts were not about the stars, but of something much nearer. "I wonder…" he mused.

"What?" she was still trying not to think of the feel of his lips against hers.

"Oh," he stuttered, "I was just thinking out loud. About Eala." _You are such a liar. You will have to ask for forgiveness later._

"What about her?" she was both glad he changed the subject, and annoyed of the reminder of her true self.

"Um," he fumbled, frantically trying to think of something, "I wonder in all the holy stories, if she ever favored one of her lovers above the others."

Elsie tripped over a stick and fell forward. She only just missed landing on her face by turning at the last moment, bearing the brunt of it on her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he stopped, worried. Since her fall on the hill he had not seen her move without grace. Even in the raging floodwater her agility had impressed him.

"Yes, thank you," she said distractedly. Her shoulder ached, but she got up before he could help her. _Or touch me._ "I didn't see that stick. But I am fine, not to worry. No sprained ankle this time."

"Good," he was relieved. "Let's stop here again. I should have been more thoughtful – it's far too dark to walk right now." They stopped where they had started, at the opposite side of the circle from the entrance.

"What made you think of that?" she asked, surreptitiously rubbing her shoulder. "About Eala?"

"I don't know. Just curiosity, I guess. I remember thinking about it when I was a young man and hearing the stories from the priestesses." That was all true. Now that he really _was_ thinking about it, it piqued his interest once more. "What do you think? Do you think she has a favorite?"

 _Yes. I know so. And he is not even my lover. Or a god._

"I don't think it would be proper for her to have a favorite," she said carefully. "Or at least to acknowledge it. Her entire purpose is to give love to mortals, and bless them with pleasure, and fertility when the time is right."

Charles laughed softly. "You sound like me. I agree. It would be a major fault if she did favor someone. I know the priestesses have said the gods at times do act like mortals." His voice grew serious. "But it would be a mistake for any of them to be like us in that way, and set someone on a pedestal. It would upset the balance of things."

"Quite so," she murmured. If he had struck her, he would not have hurt her as badly as she felt.

 _If only he were wrong._

She knew he was not.

* * *

The journey to Downton from the palace took twice as long as Thomas had done alone. With all the litters and chariots, the procession of people, the wagons and the numerous animals, it took four days. By the end of it, nearly everyone was exhausted, and even the king's spirits drooped a bit.

"At least the weather's been nice," Anna commented late in the afternoon on the fourth day. "It could have been raining. That would have made it far worse."

The king's hall sat north of the village, no more than an hour's walk away from it. All the servants were kept busy far into the night when they arrived, despite several having arrived early to prepare. The next day was spent mostly recovering from the journey. Thomas and Edward were beyond grateful that Master Henry let them sleep past dawn.

The second morning after their arrival, the king surprised the servants by dismissing all of them except for a few guards for the day. If they wished to leave the hall, they were expected back by the first watch of the night.

Anna immediately announced she would go to Downton. The family themselves were headed that way, but Lady Mary had told her that she could do as she pleased, as they were going to visit her grandmother Violet and cousin Isobel.

"Meet me outside the eastern wall," Anna told Thomas. "I just need to get my cloak." She paused at the look on his face. "You _are_ going, aren't you?"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Why should I? Midsummer is in a few days. I'll see my family then." Spending a rare free day with Edward, swimming in the river and finding a secluded spot, seemed a much better plan. Anna glared at him.

"Thomas! I can't very well go to the village and see Daisy, and _you_ not be there, too!" She looked at Edward pleadingly. "Can you talk some sense into him?"

"Why don't we go?" Edward asked in a low voice. "I do want to see where you grew up, and meet your sister properly." Dropping to a whisper, he touched Thomas's shoulder. "If more of us go, it will be easier when you see your father. And," he reminded him, "You can see Phyllis, too."

" _I'm_ going to the village," Sybil announced, drawing her cloak around her. "Please, Thomas. Come with us." She quirked a smile at him. "Even Sarah's going."

"Fine," he huffed, throwing his hands up. He could not fight all of them at once.

They reached the village early enough that the market was alive with activity. Sarah ran into Alfred when she went to buy bread. Charles's apprentice asked Thomas to send word that he would be spending the day with his aunt.

"Wonderful," Thomas grumbled as they continued on. "Just wonderful. I'll have to tell him one of his lads has run off for the day! Like he needs another reason to be angry with me!"

"Won't he be happy to see you?" Anna asked. "I know the two of you have not seen eye to eye, but you're still his son."

Thomas shrugged off her question. The differences between he and his father were something he kept mostly to himself. And the only person who knew anything of his suspicions of Elsie, and the last argument he had had with Charles, was Edward, and he was not keen to tell anyone else. Not even Anna.

Strolling through the market, they all kept getting distracted. Sybil wandered a little behind Thomas and Edward to stop and look at the various wares. She looked up after buying some figs, only to see the lads talking to a dark-haired woman she supposed was Phyllis. Turning to ask Anna the woman's name, she saw her friend had disappeared.

"Anna?" Sybil looked around, but could not see her. She retraced her steps, thinking her friend was buying something at another stall. "Anna?"

She suddenly caught sight of the blond-haired woman making her way back from a path by the river. "There you are," she said, tugging on her cloak. "I thought you were lost."

"No," Anna said. She tried to smile, but it did not reach her eyes.

"Where were you?"

"On an errand," Anna hurried closer to where Thomas and Edward were. Sybil put out her arm and stopped her.

"What's the matter? You know you can tell me," she said, her eyes gentle.

Anna hesitated, then sighed. "Oh-it's not _that_ bad," she said. "I just wanted to keep the news to myself until something had actually happened. I wrote to the matchmaker here." Pink spread across her cheeks. "She sent me a message just before we left court. She-her name is Martha-she said she had a match for me. So I went to see her just now."

"And you don't like her choice for you?" Sybil asked. She linked her arms through Anna's as they walked.

"She didn't tell me _who_ it was. She just said that she had not talked to him yet. So I'll have to wait a little longer, until after Midsummer when she does before I know…" Anna glanced in the direction of their friends. "I-I didn't want anyone to know I saw Martha. It was Lady Mary's suggestion when I told her…I would like to be married. I don't have any close family, so it made sense to go to the matchmaker here. I lived here for a short while when I was younger. At the temple."

"So if you married, you would come back here?"

Anna nodded. "I like it here, the people are nice."

"So you might already know the man-" Sybil was cut off by Anna's sharp shushing. She jerked her head to the side, at Sarah and Alfred who were talking to a spice trader right next to them.

They were passing their fellow servant, squeezing through several people, when Sarah stepped back without looking. She knocked into another man and fell into Alfred.

"Mind where you're going!" she barked at the man, who had dropped his crutch. Anna picked it up and handed it to him. Alfred went red.

"I'm sorry Master John, we didn't see you-"

"Don't trouble yourself Alfred," John straightened up, leaning on the crutch. He winced slightly. He nodded at Anna. "Thank you." Before she could respond, Sarah spoke up again.

"I don't know who _you_ are, but I'll make sure my Lady knows how rude the people here are," she said.

"He was not being rude," Anna said sharply. "It was an innocent mistake."

John looked directly at Sarah. "My deepest apologies. I'm John, the blacksmith here."

"The blacksmith?" Sarah raised her eyebrows, taking in his limp. "Well, that's not saying much." Before she could say anything else, Alfred dragged her away, mumbling an apology, his face crimson.

John turned to the two young women. "I take it you know that charming woman?"

"Her name is Sarah," Sybil said. "She serves the queen. We all do. I'm Sybil," he nodded at her.

"I'm Anna," Anna held out her hand for him to shake it.

"Pleased to meet you," John shook her hand. "Thank you for defending me just now. Not many would. I'm easy to blame."

"I don't see why," Anna said softly. "It was not your fault."

Sybil opened her mouth to agree, but closed it. She saw a rare look pass between the two of them. For a moment, she felt invisible.

"Well," she said, finally breaking the awkward moment, "We must find our friends. I'm sure we will see you again sometime."

John coughed. "Yes. Good day to you."

The two went on their way, Anna's face aflame and her eyes lit up. Sybil was torn between wanting to say something, and simply letting the incident rest. She bit back a laugh at the look on Anna's face.

 _She does not need the matchmaker._

They caught up with Thomas and Edward, who had been talking to Phyllis the entire time. She was excited to see Anna, and glad to meet Sybil. All five of them went together to the weaver's.

Daisy squealed with excitement when she saw her brother, then screamed outright when she saw Anna. Thomas was unable to keep a smile from his face when he saw his friend and his sister's unbridled joy. His smile slipped and almost turned into tears when Daisy gave Edward a warm hug.

Master Bill wisely sent his apprentice home for the day. He was encouraged by Phyllis who, Thomas was delighted to see, treated the older man like a father.

 _It will not be long now. Not if Joseph has any courage._

 _He'd better._

On the way out of Downton, Anna, Daisy and Sybil talked almost without stopping. Daisy was immediately drawn to Sybil, and the two liked each other on sight. When Sybil admitted she had never baked before, Daisy offered to show her how.

Edward joined in the conversation whenever there was a chance. Thomas retreated, his apprehension growing the closer they got to home.

 _How will I hide what I feel for Edward? I should not have to!_

 _Father will not care. It would only remind him that I bring only grief to him._

Much to Thomas's chagrin, Anna was right. Charles was elated to see his son. He greeted his children's friends warmly, either not noticing or choosing to ignore his son's aloof manner. Thomas did feel his heart skip when Charles took care to ask Edward in particular about himself, and how he liked serving the king. Edward flushed scarlet at the attention.

 _He is only being polite. I'm sure he thinks Edward is nothing but a bad influence._

They ate the midday meal outside, the day being warm. And, as Daisy noted, the hut was far too small for such a large gathering. James was not at all pleased to find that he had to watch the flocks in Alfred's place.

"Someone must," Charles said. "Andrew watched them last night, and it is your turn."

"But Master," James protested, "if Alfred can just go off-"

"He will take his turn when he returns," Charles raised an eyebrow. "And he is with family. I do not blame him for that." He gave a cursory nod to the apprentice, who got up from the meal and stomped away toward the bleating animals on the hill.

"Jimmy's angry because he wanted to talk to Sybil," Daisy whispered to Anna, who choked back a laugh. "He's been staring at her ever since we got here."

"Now," said Charles, "if you want to go walking, there's a fine view of the hills from the meadow further east. If you want to go swimming, the lake is over there-" he pointed over his shoulder to the north, "-it will still be a little cold, but not too bad. As much as I would like to join you in whatever you're doing, I have to rest."

"Now? Do you have to?" Daisy asked, frowning. "It's so nice to have us all here, and on Midsummer there'll be the Offering, then the festival. The king might want them all to go back before the end of the day!"

"I'm sorry, petal, but I have to sleep. I watch the sheep tonight." He kissed her head. "Besides, you will all have much more fun without me around." His tone was downcast, but Thomas saw a rare sparkle in his eyes.

 _He looks…happy. Truly happy._

 _Has he_ _ever_ _looked like that?_

He did not want to think about the implications of his father's good mood.

"What does everyone want to do?" Andy asked after Charles had gone back to the hut. "I'd like either swimming or the meadow. What do you think, Daisy?"

"I thought I'd like to go swimming," she said, her eyes bright. "I haven't yet this spring."

"Swimming it is, then," he grinned.

"Wait," Anna said, touching Daisy's arm. "If the lads want to go swimming, then you, Sybil and I will have to go to the meadow."

"Why?" Daisy complained. Anna gave Thomas a pointed look.

"Because Anna and Sybil are women, and you almost are," he said. "It's not…decent for lads and maids to swim together, you know that."

"Maybe we should all go to the meadow, then," Edward offered.

"No, no, if you want to go swimming, you should," Anna protested. "I know you and Thomas planned on it earlier."

In the end, Thomas and Edward headed to the lake. Andy went with the girls. He said he didn't mind. Sybil and Anna smiled at each other, and let him walk in front of them with Daisy.

The brook was once again in its banks after the flood. The four sat down near a young oak tree on the northern side of the meadow. Opposite, and further east, an ash tree slept in the sun.

"Who is that?" Anna asked, pointing in the distance. Daisy smiled and Andy blushed.

"That's Elsie, she's the new shepherdess-"

"She's _gorgeous_ , the most beautiful woman in the kingdom-"

Anna laughed. "Oh my, Lady Mary will _not_ like to hear that. The beautiful part, not about being a shepherdess."

"Should we go and talk to her, do you think? She's all by herself." Sybil said.

Andy shaded his eyes with his hand. "She's herding the sheep with Frea. Her dog," he explained. "We'd better leave her alone for now." He moved further back and laid down in the shade.

"I'll make sure to introduce you all at Midsummer," Daisy told the other two.

The brook bubbled on behind them. The leaves above them hung still in the warm air. Anna lay on the ground sideways, asleep, Daisy curled next to her. Andy snored nearby. Daisy was humming, but after a while, her eyes grew heavy and she too fell asleep.

Sybil glanced in the direction of the lake, but one distant figure floated in a placid manner on the water, while the other splashed near him. Jimmy was out of sight with the flock.

* * *

Elsie slumped against the ash tree, resting a bare foot on its trunk. She had enjoyed listening to the distant sounds of the merry group since the late morning.

 _Charles must be happy. Both his children home, and their friends here as well to liven things nicely._

 _He will not be lonely, that's for certain._

She opened the flask of water she had collected from the brook earlier in the day. She drank a little, then splashed some on her hands to rub on her face and her bare arms. She smiled.

 _ **I**_ _would have liked to go swimming. Even with Thomas and his…companion, that would not be a good idea._

Setting the flask down, she rested her back against the tree again. A dark-haired figure walked across the meadow towards her. Elsie frowned. It was not Daisy; the girl was too tall.

She shaded her eyes.

Her heart gave an enormous leap, and tears came to her eyes.

Tears of joy.

The young woman began to run.

"Mother!"

She flew straight into Elsie's waiting arms.

The shepherdess stroked the young woman's hair and kissed her forehead.

"Harmony," she whispered. They swayed together back and forth for a long moment. Pulling back, Elsie touched her hair. "I've missed you. I did not expect to see you _here_!"

"Neither did I," her daughter said. "But it seems I've found favor with the queen. She seems to like her newest servant very much. She wanted me to come along with the court for the summer." She grinned. "I am glad, because I missed you, too. From the moment you left. I had to come!"

Elsie raised an eyebrow. "As happy I am to see you, are you _sure_ you did not unduly influence the queen? Or anyone else to come here?"

"I did _not_!" the young woman protested, her eyes widened. "If anything, I have too little influence at the palace! Tom says I need to exert more of my will, but-"

" _Tom?_ " Elsie gasped, her mouth dropping open. " _Thomas_ knows who you are? You know very well it's forbidden-"

"Not Thomas," she gestured impatiently. "Not the shepherd's son. He thinks I'm mortal, of course, as does everyone else at court. I call myself Sybil now, and my husband out of solidarity decided to rename himself Tom while I'm here. He rather likes the name."

"Ah," Elsie nodded, the tension leaving her. It was beginning to make sense. "So does that mean my rascal of a son-in-law is here too?" She played with the ends of her daughter's hair. _Me. Beryl. Harmony…or Sybil, as she wants to be called._

 _How many of us are here?_

"No," Sybil said. "He thought it would be a better idea to stay in divine form, to keep an eye on things. Not just on me. On you, too." She squeezed Elsie's shoulder. "He wants to be sure you're keeping out of mischief."

Elsie's mouth went dry. _I cannot tell her about Charles_. She joked, hoping her daughter would not notice her unease. "He should talk. He's the chief mischief-maker himself!"

They sat for a time under the ash tree while Sybil told her mother about life at court. About the happiness of the king and queen, the unhappiness of their eldest daughter. Lady Edith, their younger daughter, had been widowed with a small child just like her elder sister. But she had lately married the young ruler of Hexham, and was blissfully happy. This seemed to irritate Lady Mary to no end.

"It isn't just Lady Mary that disturbs the peace and unity there," Sybil ran her hand through the grass. "Sarah, the queen's favorite, takes out her unhappiness on nearly everyone. And then there's Thomas. Edward keeps him in check, and he is friends with Anna, but…he is not at peace with himself. There is a storm within him, but I don't know why yet. I want to help him."

"He and Charles clash often," Elsie said. "For more than one reason. And I do not think I have helped," she said without thinking.

"Why do you say that?" Sybil asked. "You are only their neighbor."

"Because," Elsie stammered, "because Thomas believes I am trying to seduce his father."

Sybil laughed. "You are generous with your charms," she teased her mother. "I know that better than most. Tom hates it when I remind him of your shared past. But a mortal? Surely Victor is not that disagreeable."

Elsie tried to laugh with her. But she felt nothing but mortification. First thinking about Tom, then about Victor.

The merriment left Sybil's face, and her face grew pale. She reached out and grabbed Elsie's wrist.

"What have you done?" She whispered so low the words were barely understandable. They were not said as an accusation. There was nothing but fear on the young woman's face. Elsie braced herself.

"Nothing. I have done nothing," she whispered in return, though there was no one close to hear them.

 _No one visible to hear us_. She knew Sybil thought the same thing.

"There is a storm within you as well," Sybil murmured, keeping a firm grip on her. "Why did I not sense it?" Her eyes widened. "You-you _love_ him." She held one hand to her mouth for a brief moment in shock. "Mother, you _must not_ act against Victor's will. Or against my grandfather. I don't know what they would do, but I know nothing would come of it except strife, and conflict, and long-lasting disunity. The mortals would suffer."

"I know," Elsie looked into her eyes. "I am well aware of that. That is why I have not acted on my own will." She swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat. "Why I will not."

Her daughter's eyes were filled with pity. "Perhaps you should return home," she said.

A laugh bubbled out of Elsie's mouth. "And seal my own fate sooner?" she squeezed Sybil's hand. "I have thought of it, but I have not been here long, not by the mortals' reckoning at least. I have not even celebrated Midsummer once!"

"I have seen Tom a few times since I arrived," Sybil said. "He visits me during the full moon. The last time, he told me Beryl would be coming here for the festival. When we are together then, we can talk and perhaps try to find a way to help you." Her pale blue were troubled as she looked across the meadow. "I have to go before the others wake."

They stood up and embraced once more. "I am glad you are here," Elsie whispered into her hair. "You always bring me joy, my sweet child."

"We will talk again at Midsummer," Sybil promised. "But until then, guard yourself closely."

 **I feel like there's a lot of doooooom going on here. I promise more levity to come. And Chelsie.**


	12. The Sacred Day

_Midsummer._

 _It was held to be the most sacred day in ancient times._

 _Before dawn crowds would gather at the foot of the hill below Eala's shrine. Carrying torches, they were led in a procession up to the entrance to the circled pillars by the priestesses. Incense was burned and prayers were offered. The priestesses entered the circle while the mass of people collected on either side of the path outside, leaving the center clear. Often people then sang, or told stories or jokes._

 _The goddess was thought to enjoy merriment and humor over solemnity. Those gathered were happy to revel in it._

 _When the sun rose, everyone made as much noise as possible to welcome summer._

 _It was always at this moment that they witnessed the miraculous._

 _When the priestesses entered the circle in the dark, they always stood well apart from each other, one on either side of the circle. The torches at the entrance as well as those they held themselves showed enough light for the people to see that there was nothing else inside._

 _But as dawn broke, there would appear gifts from Eala._

 _Always there were three – a large basket holding doves or sparrows, a handsome vine of grapes, and a new calf or goat or lamb. It was a game among people to guess which would appear from year to year._

 _Children and doubters often crowded near the entrance to try to see when the gifts appeared._

 _The priestesses would present the gifts to the crowd, carrying the birds and grapes and leading the animal down the path. After the Offering, the shrine was open to anyone until the harvest moon._

 _The rest of Midsummer Day was a panoply of feasts, dances and contests of strength. People came from near and far, if not to attend the sacred ritual, then to indulge in the rest of the fun._

 _The word everywhere the year Elsie appeared was about the spring. After the floods, the sun and rain followed thereafter in equal measure. The grass thickened, and the flowers bloomed in greater beauty than had ever been seen._

 _Love blossomed also. Betrothals were made, and vows promised, even among those who were considered to be ill-fated in matters of the heart. Joseph asked for Phyllis's hand and was joyfully accepted. No one in the village thought it improper, or begrudged their happiness. The couple was married in the temple garden by Violet only days before Midsummer._

 _The beauty of the earth, the love that showed itself in every place, and the people's belief in the blessing of Eala all helped to grow the sense of good fortune._

 _The presence of the king and his court were also lauded._

 _It was impossible for Elsie to feel sad about Charles, both because of Sybil's presence and because of the happiness around her. She looked forward to Midsummer, determined to set aside her own tumult for a time._

 _Charles rejoiced in having both Thomas and Daisy nearby for the celebrations. His heart was light, knowing that he had decided to pursue Elsie's hand._

 _Midsummer would indeed be memorable._

 **A/N: I'm not trying to tease anyone. There will be these periodic breaks in the story. Thank you all for your comments, reviews, reblogs, etc. I do appreciate them so much! After this, on to Midsummer!**


	13. The Gifts

**A/N: Well, there's so much going on during Midsummer that one chapter isn't enough to talk about all of it. You have been warned.**

 **Lots and lots of people in this one – I hope it's not too confusing. The first part of a Downton reunion, of sorts.**

 **I do not own Downton Abbey, I just twist it into almost-unrecognizable universes.**

* * *

Charles popped awake as suddenly as if someone had called his name. But there was no sound other than quiet breathing and snoring, the younger ones still drowned in sleep.

He sat up and ran a hand over his face. Out the window, the position of the stars told him it was just after the third watch of the night. He went outside and looked at the flocks. His and Elsie's were bunched together behind the hedge surrounding the pasture. Several of the sheep bawled at him. Going back inside, he was startled by a voice still heavy with sleep.

"Master? Is anything the matter?"

"No," he whispered to Alfred. "The flocks are fine. It _is_ time to get up. Wake James, if you can." He shuffled to the other side of the room and shook Andrew's arm lightly. "Time to get up, lad." Andrew groaned and rolled onto his side. But he moved to sit up, rubbing his eyes.

Charles expected Daisy to be awake when he pulled back the blanket separating the room. But she was still fast asleep, and did not even move. Charles felt a twinge of sadness.

 _When she was younger, she would wake_ _me_ _on Midsummer's Day._

"Daisy," he knelt next to her, fingering the sheepskin she lay on. Behind him, Andrew stoked up the fire, throwing more light everywhere. Charles bent over and pulled several wild hairs over Daisy's ear. "Petal, time to wake up," he said, a little louder.

"Mmmmm," Daisy murmured, her eyes still shut. She turned to face away from the light of the fire. Charles put his hand on her back. "Come on, lass. Everyone's up and ready to go join the procession." He leaned over and whispered right in her ear. "Even _Andrew_ is awake."

With a gasp Daisy shot up so fast, she almost knocked heads with her father. He laughed, trying not to think about how it was his apprentice's name that woke her fully.

 _They grow so fast._

"Why didn't you wake me sooner? Where's my cloak?" Daisy frantically ran her comb through her hair. Charles stood up, feeling his knees crack.

"There's no hurry," he said calmly, handing over her cloak. He was unable to stop smiling. "I simply wanted to make sure you got up the first time."

" _Oooohh_ , Papa!" Daisy glared at him. "That is _not_ funny!"

They left the hut, eating cheese made the day before. James stumbled, still half-asleep between Alfred and Andrew.

In the dim light of a burning torch, they saw Elsie standing next to the pasture. With her were two figures.

"Hello, Stowell," Charles greeted the taller of the two. He was an older man with a sour expression and vivid eyebrows. "And who is this?"

"My nephew Luke," Stowell gestured to the young lad with him. "Seeing as how this year I have two flocks to watch instead of one, I thought I'd bring him."

"A fine idea," Elsie agreed. She turned in Charles's direction. "I told them they would receive their wages before moonrise tonight."

Usually someone would have had to stay behind and watch the flocks. But because Robert and the court had come to Downton, there was an unusual number of people who had come to observe the holy day. Charles and Elsie had decided to hire someone to watch the flocks so the apprentices could enjoy the festival. Stowell had once lived near the village, but had moved to Hexham several years before. Charles did not particularly care for him, but knew he would watch the flocks faithfully. For one day at least.

It helped that he had been promised double the gold.

After leaving the pasture, the group headed toward the road. Torches flickered in the distance. They joined those heading in the direction of the hill below the shrine. May was walking with her brother and sister-in-law. Charles fell back behind the others, keeping an eye on Daisy.

Elsie kept her hood up, glad of the darkness. Stowell had given her a sharp glance, and Luke had stared, but it was nothing like it would have been in broad daylight. She kept her head down. It was more because the road was becoming more crowded, and she need to watch her feet. Still, she couldn't help but bump into the person next to her.

"Oh, I am sorry-" she began, only to see it was Charles. He smiled at her. His expression made her blush.

"Blessed Midsummer," he said quietly, his voice barely more than a rumble.

"B-blessed Midsummer," she stuttered in reply, her heart skipping like the words she couldn't say. _What his voice does to me…_ She cleared her throat. "I hope you slept well."

"Tolerably," he said as they continued on. "And you?"

"Well enough," she replied. "I kept waking up, thinking about today."

He turned slightly towards her, holding his torch. "Me too," he picked up his stride a little. "I love Midsummer – everything about it. I look forward to this every summer!"

She could not hold back a smile at his excitement. "I will rely on you to tell me what's going on. I've never been to the shrine on the holy day," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"I will make sure you can see as much as possible," he reassured her. His mouth went dry at her smile. "It's fairly straightforward, but you are probably used to different customs."

Near a tall hedge, they saw Daisy leading someone towards them through a cluster of people. "Elsie?" Daisy tugged on her cloak, leading her off the road. Charles followed behind. "Anna's here. This is my friend Anna," she said, gesturing to a young blond woman. "Anna, this is Elsie, our neighbor."

"Blessed Midsummer," Anna said, a warm smile on her face. "Daisy's told me a lot about you."

"I've only heard good things about you. Blessed Midsummer, Anna," Elsie replied kindly. _She is stronger than she looks. But she still has a kind heart despite her troubles. A treasure, hidden away._

Anna's eyes widened as the light from a passing torch reflected on Elsie's face. "Oh," she stumbled before recovering herself. "Um, Sybil told me she met you in the meadow and that she planned to meet you again today. The queen and Lady Mary dismissed us for the day."

"Thank you, Anna," Elsie said, grateful that Sybil had explained their meeting. "Yes, she and I were hoping to meet again."

"She asked me to tell you that she'll be along soon. She ran into some friends in the crowd, closer to the hill."

"Well, we'd best get on then. We don't want to be at the end of the line." As they went back onto the road, Elsie heard Daisy ask Anna-

"Didn't Andy tell you? What do you think now?"

Elsie tried not to overhear them, but people behind her were pressing them forward.

"You heard nothing from me," Anna said, her arm through Daisy's, "But Lady Mary doesn't come close."

The crowd thickened around them. Looking back, there was a river of torches gleaming on the road.

"I hope that young woman did not trouble you," Charles said next to her, his brow furrowed. "Daisy usually is very good about knowing to leave a shepherd alone when you're watching the sheep." It took Elsie a moment to realize he was talking about Sybil.

"Oh, she was no bother," she said lightly. "That day when they were all there, I think several of them, including Daisy, fell asleep. Sybil came and talked to me. I didn't mind. She was not in the way," Elsie reassured him.

"Hmph," he muttered, not looking convinced. Elsie changed the subject.

"Since she and Anna were dismissed, do you think Thomas will be? It would be nice for you and Daisy to spend time with him today, I shouldn't wonder."

"Daisy would like that, and I would as well," Charles said. "Not that he would want to be with _me_ ," he muttered under his breath.

"Why?" Elsie asked before she could stop herself. Charles glanced at her and sighed.

"My son and I…have differing views of the gods. Especially regarding Eala."

Elsie's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. "Oh?" It was all she could do to keep her composure. "What do you mean?"

"I have always tried to be devoted to the gods. For me, it is not a question of belief. I…I may sound presumptuous, but I _know_ they exist," Charles turned a little to let several people pass him. "I think my faith angers Thomas. He was always an inquisitive boy, but after Alice died, I think he determined that such beings could not exist. He blames them for taking away his mother…" his voice trailed off. "Why he feels a special ire for the Goddess of Love, I cannot say for certain. He has never told me, but I think it may have to do with his attraction to men."

 _Maybe. Or maybe not._

"Have you tried to talk to him?" Elsie asked after a long silence. She immediately chastised herself for asking such an obvious question. Charles nodded.

"Many times. It has not gone well. He attacks the divine, I'm sure to get a rise out of me, which I must confess usually works. Our discussions end, if they don't begin, with us shouting at each other."

Part of him could not believe he had said that much to Elsie. He had never said as much to John or Richard, or either Isobel or Violet. Another part of him felt relieved, as if he had set down a burden.

Charles's heartache was visible on his face, even in the dim light. She reached out and touched his hand. "Keep trying. You care for him very much, and I know he cares for you." He looked at her, but said nothing.

Instead, he linked his fingers through her hand and squeezed it.

A rush of warmth spread through her body. She bit her lip from making any noise, but squeezed his hand back. The crowd around them hid their intertwined hands.

When he was young and gone to war, he had sailed on a ship for the only time in his life. He remembered throwing the anchor overboard, and the sensation of the vessel being held in place.

The same feeling came back to him.

As they approached the bottom of the hill, they slowed. The crowd buzzed with excitement. There was a good deal of jostling, as some tried to make their way closer to the front where the priestesses were standing. Others were trying to find family or friends. Charles spotted Joe and Phyllis, and waved them over to them. Alfred kept telling them who he could see. "I can see the priestess Violet…she's talking to a man. No, not Richard, he's by Isobel. As usual. Ivy!" he bellowed, waving. "Over here!" He and Jimmy started waving their arms. Daisy kept jumping in the air to see.

Charles winced. "There is no need to shout that loud. I think you woke the few still asleep!" On his other side, Andrew gave a huge yawn.

"Ah, there you are," Joseph said, nimbly threading his way through a sea of bodies. He kept a firm grip on Phyllis's hand. Charles congratulated the newlyweds heartily. He wondered if he should let go of Elsie's right hand in his left, but he wanted to hold on a little longer.

She kept hold of his hand. _It's still dark. No one can see. We'll have to let go soon._

In a nonchalant voice, Anna asked Joseph where the blacksmith was.

"John? He's up there, with the family," Joseph pointed to the front of the procession. "When the king summons you, you don't say no. You should have seen the look on my face when Robert came to the forge yesterday! I never thought he'd come there, even though he and John have been friends since the war-"

Daisy, Alfred, Ivy and Jimmy chattered nonstop.

"You should come with us, your uncle won't mind-"

"Hardly, he said as long as I was home by moonrise-"

"Ivy, I'm going to challenge in the tournament-"

"It's more difficult than you would think, Jimmy! People come from Painswick and Loxley-"

"Alfred, are _you_ going to challenge for it?"

"Hello," a quiet voice said on Elsie's left. She reluctantly let go of Charles's hand when she heard Sybil. _Best to leave it now._ But she felt a sudden chill at the loss of his touch.

"It's good to see you," Elsie smiled, folding her hands together. She immediately noticed Sybil's nose. In the flickering light it was difficult to tell, but – _is it bigger?_

"And you," her daughter grinned back. "You know Thomas, of course-" Charles's son grunted a hello, not looking directly at her, "-and this is Edward."

A look of shock passed over the tall young man's face. His mouth fell open but he managed to pull himself together. "Pleased to meet you."

Elsie had barely responded when Daisy pushed her way past her. "Thomas! We hoped we'd see you!" she gave her brother a hug before he could stop her. He did not seem to mind, bending over to hug her back.

When he straightened up, however, his eyes met Charles's. It was as if a mask covered his face. " _Why_ ," he gritted through his teeth, "are you standing so close to _her?_ "

Charles instantly stiffened. "Watch your tone, boy." _He has no right to judge me._

"We're all standing close together," Sybil said quickly, her eyes darting from father to son, "no one can help touching anyone else."

"That's right," Elsie agreed, keenly aware that others, including Alfred, Ivy and Jimmy were watching. Charles seemed to grasp it at the same moment.

"It means nothing," he said. It came out of his mouth all at once; he hardly registered what he had said.

Until he saw Elsie clench her jaw. Her eyes flashed.

 _I did not mean it. I should not have said that._

 _But then, she let go of my hand first._

Up ahead, someone blew a horn.

"It's time," Edward gently poked Thomas in the back. He touched Daisy's shoulder, getting her to turn toward the hill where the procession had finally started to move. Charles stepped behind her. Elsie's view was blocked.

Not that she could focus on anything. _'It means nothing.' NOTHING!? Infuriating man!_

She knew she was being ridiculous, that it was impossible for him to say anything, but her pride was wounded.

 _I am Eala. I am not a mortal woman, someone to be cast aside, meaning nothing!_

Sybil grasped Elsie's cloak, pulling her to the side of the mass of people. "He did not mean it," she whispered into her mother's ear. "You know he could say little else!" They hurried, swept along by the people behind them.

Elsie's shoulders slumped as they walked. _It would be better if he did mean it. If anything between us meant nothing._

But it vexed her that Charles had said such a thing in front of Thomas. And it irritated her that she was vexed.

She was lost in her own thoughts, barely conscious of anyone around her, until a familiar face appeared on her right.

"This is _your_ day, your face should not look like your father's before a thunderstorm!"

Beryl.

Elsie gasped in surprise before giving her a hug. She was glad when Sybil slipped an arm around her other side. The three of them embraced, still walking forward, being bumped on all sides by the crowd.

"I am so glad to see you," Elsie whispered. "Both of you." They had reached the top of the hill and continued on the path toward the shrine. The crowd was still moving forward, but some were stepping off the path on either side. The flaming torches at the entrance were visible.

"Elsie! We're over here!" Daisy waved at her from next to a pine tree. Elsie glanced at Sybil and Beryl, who nodded, letting go of her. Elsie took a deep breath and forced a smile. _It is a happy day. You should not let anything overshadow it._

"We thought we'd lost you," the young girl said, Ivy and Anna looking on. Charles glanced back at them. He relaxed when he saw Elsie smiling. _Maybe I imagined her expression_.

He knew he had not. _You'll have to make it up to her. Somehow._

"Come stand over here, you'll be able to see better," he pointed closer to the path.

"Thank you," Elsie said to him. "I ran into a friend," she answered Daisy, gesturing to Beryl. "Someone _you_ know-"

"How could I ever forget the finest baker in the kingdom?" Beryl grinned widely. She looked touched when Daisy gave her a hug. Elsie made introductions in a low voice, as the prayers were starting at the shrine. Charles nodded at Beryl.

The way the short, stout woman stared at him, a slight frown on her face, made him feel as though she were looking right through him. He raised an eyebrow back. Putting her hands on her hips, she shook her head at him. A small smile curved the corners of her lips up.

A group of children began to sing a hymn next to the entrance to the shrine. Incense was visible in the light of the torches.

"Well," Beryl murmured, holding her nose, "they don't hold back, do they?"

"It's a fitting tribute," someone put a hand on Elsie's shoulder. She turned and looked up to see a smiling young man, his golden hair gleaming. She gasped and gave him a crushing hug.

"Phi-"

"Shhh, not here," Beryl's son whispered. "Call me William."

"You can call _me_ Albert," a shorter man wearing a beard clapped William on the back. " _I_ wanted to go by William, but this young scamp stole it first. He was not very kind to his poor father!" He laughed as Elsie let go of the young man to hug him. "You didn't expect to see us all here, did you?"

Elsie laughed with him, feeling tears in her eyes. "No. But it's lovely to see you!"

Sybil hugged both father and son. "Now she'll tell us how confusing it all is."

"Can you blame me?" Elsie said, touching William's arm. "Everyone changing their name, except Beryl of course-"

"I never liked my original, so I've gone by my favorite for the last few millennia," Beryl crossed her arms. "Everyone be quiet, I'm trying to listen!"

The children had finished singing, but others had begun where they finished. Some sang more reverential songs, but Elsie could hear a ruder interpretation of the children's song breaking out behind her. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

Jimmy told a joke, which sent everyone around him into gales of laughter. Elsie saw Charles suppress his own amusement. She rolled her eyes at him. He gave her a half-shrug, as if to say _I can't help it if I am more respectful than others here_.

 _Daft man._ She could not help loving him more for his reserve.

Even if she found it a bit ridiculous.

Daisy hung on to Ivy, the two laughing uproariously. Joseph had his arm around Phyllis, who threw her head back, her long hair hitting Anna. Sybil's friend did not seem to mind as she giggled, her hand over her mouth. The apprentices were rolling on the ground. William began to sing a funny little ditty. Jimmy's eyes widened in recognition of the song and he joined in, followed by Edward. Soon everyone was singing the round.

Even, Elsie saw, Thomas. And Charles.

Albert exchanged a glance with her, then they both looked at Beryl. She nodded as she sang, one arm around Sybil, acknowledging the amazing scene around them.

 _It is as if we all were meant to be together here. At this place, at this time. Mortals and the divine._

The clamor rose as the sky began to lighten. Both William and Sybil turned to Elsie, who only gave an imperceptible shake of her head. Her eyes glittered.

The sun broke over the horizon, and she was almost deafened by the noise of the crowd. Horns, shouts, singing, children banging wooden sticks together. She had to hold her hands over her ears for a moment. The racket lessened slightly as people craned to see the shrine.

It redoubled in volume when everyone saw two baskets and a calf.

Violet walked down the path first, carrying the vine of grapes. In the other basket were several white doves. Isobel followed, leading the calf. Some witnesses, more pious, knelt as they passed. Most simply bowed their heads.

"What happens to the gifts now?" Sybil asked in a low voice. Charles heard her.

"The doves and calf will be given to those who need them. The grapes are separated and given as prizes at the festival. And the vine itself will be planted in the temple garden."

The king and his family followed behind the priestesses. The crowd began to disperse after they passed by. Most began the walk back down the path to the hill. Some stayed at the shrine.

Elsie introduced Beryl, Albert and William as old friends to the others. Alfred and Jimmy immediately tried to convince William to enter the contest.

"You'd be a strong contender, I should think," Jimmy said. He held up a gold coin. "If you're a betting man-"

"You should not waste your money, James," Charles said curtly. Jimmy raised his eyebrows.

"But Master, you _always_ are in the contest, and you've won many times!"

"I participate. I don't throw away hard-earned gold."

William held up his hands. "I hate to disappoint anyone, but I will not participate. Not today. I'm sorry," he nodded at Jimmy. "I appreciate the encouragement." He turned to Andy. "What about you? I'm sure a tall lad like you has won before."

Andy went red. "I-I've never entered."

"Well," William pulled a coin out of the pouch hanging on his belt, "If you do, I'm willing to bet this."

"I think I might enter," Edward murmured to Thomas as they started walking down the path.

Thomas shrugged. "If you want to. It's your funeral, though. If you end up in a match against my father, he'll rip your head from your body." Edward laughed.

"He is not as heartless as you make him out to be."

"Thomas, Edward, are you coming?" Daisy waved at them. "We're _starving_. Where's Anna?"

Thomas looked back, closer to the shrine entrance. John and Anna were walking together. Anna's face was pink, and John wore a smile Thomas had never seen before. "I think we'd best go on without her."

"I'd like to come too, if I may," Sybil said. Ivy grabbed her arm and the three girls vanished through the trees, Albert and Beryl behind them. William leaned against a tree, whistling softly. He called after his mother that he would be coming along.

"Wait," Thomas said, holding out an arm to stop Edward. "I forgot my pipe. Don't wait for me, I'll catch up."

Elsie touched William's tunic. "It really is wonderful to see you. And your parents." He smiled back.

"Thank you. We wanted to come, at least for a little while." Lowering his voice, he bent over. "We need to find someplace to talk after we eat. Sybil made it sound serious." Elsie sighed, closing her eyes.

"It is. But nothing I'm sure we can't find an answer to," she said, not wanting to sound downcast. William nodded.

"I wish you'd tell me," he said with a slow smile on his face, "exactly _how_ you send the gifts every Midsummer. I've wondered for a long time."

Pursing her lips, Elsie smirked. "I'm afraid you will continue to wonder. You know better than to ask that."

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. "I thought I'd try anyway." He started walking toward the break in the pine trees.

"Wonder what?" Thomas stood only a short distance away, twirling his pipe between his fingers. Elsie felt a cold chill. _How much did he hear?_

"Never you mind," She pulled her hood further over her head, despite the already warm day. By the third hour, it would be blazing.

"That's very mysterious, Elsie," his pale eyes followed her every movement.

That boy piqued her more than anyone else. "You know me, Thomas," she clipped. "A woman of mystery if ever there was one." She swept past him, the skirt of her tunic brushing on the ground.

Children played tag inside the shrine on the smooth lawn. Their laughter and high spirits helped dissolve most of her irritation. Elsie smiled as she watched them.

Charles stood next to her as she leaned against a pillar, watching the gentle expression on her face. _How different than the first time we were here._ "If you were to go in there _now_ , I would have no reason to chase you."

"Then why would I go in?" she murmured.

 _Elsie, you wicked tease. You know very well what that does to him._

The knowledge that the tangible feeling between them was the farthest thing from nothing made her heart thump almost painfully.

Charles caught his breath when she looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. He flushed red, clearing his throat.

"S-shall we catch up to the others? You must be hungry," he said, as his belly rumbled loudly.

Laughing, Elsie turned. "And you always are. And we cannot have that," the color on her cheeks gave away her own discomposure.

Thomas walked a little distance behind them, his eyes taking in everything. Their expressions, the way they walked next to each other, how the backs of their hands brushed against each other. How neither of them moved further away when that happened.

It was evident his father and Elsie were drawn to each other, anyone could see that. The thought almost choked him before he noticed something else. He came to a dead stop.

 _She is wearing_ _ **his**_ _cloak._

Her red hair stood out against the dark blue cloth.


	14. A Cloak And A Question

The feast of Midsummer was held just outside of Downton, on the southern edge of the village next to the river. The king had brought numerous animals for just this purpose. It was generosity not usually seen by the locals, or the many outsiders who were visiting.

Along with innumerable loaves of bread, cheese, and vast quantities of lentil soup, fish and wild birds were also in abundance. But it was the roasted pigs, lambs, and tender beef that many had waited for. Long tables were set out for the king and his family, and for others who were quick enough to reach them. Everyone else spread out along the riverbank.

"I wish you would tell me what's wrong," Edward said in a low voice as they sat at the end of one table.

Thomas wrenched a bone from the quail in front of him, nearly tearing the bird in two. "I don't want to _talk_ about it," he hissed through his teeth. He knew he would tell Edward eventually, but he had not yet figured out how to confront his father about Elsie. And he did not want Edward to get involved. _This is about Father and me._

 _And why he seems more than happy to throw away Mother's memory._

 _Why didn't Daisy_ _tell_ _me?_

"Fine," Edward muttered, his tone indicating otherwise, "but could you at least _try_ not to look so angry? This is supposed to be a happy day."

Thomas tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. Edward sighed.

"I think _you_ had better challenge the competition later. Your face could start a war."

"You should enter, Thomas," Phyllis had gotten up from her seat further down the table. She stood behind him and patted his shoulder. "You did well last Midsummer, and you're stronger now, and faster-"

"And more quick-witted," Edward added, nudging him. "It isn't all brute strength."

"Otherwise your father would win every year," Phyllis laughed. "I will cheer both of you – unless you are in a match against Joseph. Then I make no promises!"

Thomas could not help the smile that appeared on his face. "If I am matched against Joseph, at least it will be a fair fight."

One of the oldest traditions on Midsummer was a wrestling competition. It was held after the sun reached its peak. Many men and boys took part, hoping to claim prizes. To win was held as a high honor. The crowd buzzed in anticipation of the event. Even among those who would not or could not compete, there was much to look forward to. Wagers were made, and coins changed hands.

Among women and girls, some had already staked claims on the best spots to watch, from behind the long hedge.

"Do you think the king will enter?" Jimmy asked those at the other end of the table. "I heard he used to compete when he was younger. But that was a long time ago – and he's a grandfather now." Charles raised an eyebrow.

"Being advanced in years has not held other men back. And the king is younger than _I_ am. Are you saying I should be put out to pasture?"

The apprentices, William, and Albert roared with laughter. Jimmy went red.

"I-I didn't mean-"

"I'm not insulted, James. But you may want to mind your tongue, especially if the _old_ king does enter," Charles's eyes twinkled. "If you ask me, I say there is a good chance of it. He has never shied away from proving himself, whether on the field of battle or in competition."

"Anna, Sybil, what do you think?" Joseph asked. The two young women exchanged glances.

"If the king wants to test his strength, there is nothing to stop him," Anna said. "But I can see Lady Mary trying to keep him from it. She worries about him more now, especially since Matthew died."

"More likely the queen will keep him from competition. If she wants to," Sybil leaned on her hand. "But then – she told us two nights ago that she saw him take part before their marriage. She said it opened her eyes to a different side of him."

"Well, of course!" Ivy giggled. "That's part of the fun, watching behind the hedge. Daisy, we'll have to make sure to get a good place."

"I think you're a little young to watch," Charles said, leaning over to make eye contact with his daughter. She huffed in protest.

" _Please_ , Papa! I don't want to go home with May _again_! Can't I watch? _Please?_ "

"We'll keep her with us," Anna said quickly. "Sybil and I will look after her. If things get a little…wild, then we'll leave." A smile played on her lips, and her eyes danced.

"Elsie and I will be watching too," Beryl cut in. "She'll be well looked after, your Daisy." Elsie's mouth fell open.

"I _never_ said I'd-"

"Oh hush, you," Beryl frowned, reaching over and pinching her arm. "You are going with me and the others over to that hedge and you're going to watch, even if I have to force you!" she lowered her voice. "You know you _want_ to…"

"This is not a good idea," Elsie groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. A shiver that had nothing to do with a chill ran down her back.

Charles hesitated. "Well, if you're _all_ going…then Daisy can go along as well. I trust that cooler heads will prevail if the competition gets too…heated." His face flushed, and he quickly cleared his throat, turning to talk to Albert. _It is_ _ **not**_ _the contest that gets wild, it's the women behind the hedge._

The thought of Elsie watching him was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. What if he did poorly?

"Thank you, Papa!" Daisy danced with glee, sharing a hug with Ivy.

"I should _not_ go," Elsie whispered fiercely to Beryl. "You know very well what this sort of thing does to me. And if _he_ enters-"

"We will hold you back," her friend put her arm around her. "Sybil and I. But don't lie – I know you are a little curious!"

Despite her uncertainty, Elsie laughed. "Yes, I am. I do not envy you your task." She looked up to see Phyllis returning to her seat next to Joseph. "Are you going to watch?"

The dark-haired woman nodded. "I promised Thomas and Edward I'd cheer them on. And you, most of all," she pressed a light kiss to her husband's cheek. Joseph blushed, but smiled broadly.

"I hope to do well, to please you," he said, kissing her back. "John will be one of the judges again during the matches. He's always fair. He'll make sure I won't be too battered and bruised before the day is out."

Charles talked for a length of time with Albert and William. The young man, Charles was pleased to know, was a farmer.

"He's taught me more about it than I could ever teach him," Albert said, with obvious pride. William blushed.

"I do the best I can."

When his cup was empty, Charles got up to get more wine. There were a number of bearers serving, but they were busy at the king's table. One finally saw him standing patiently and refilled his cup. He was about to return to his seat when a figure came toward him.

"Master Shepherd?"

The short balding man was dressed in a fine tunic. His cloak was a bit stained from travel, but was made of fine material.

Charles held up his cup in greeting. "Blessed Midsummer to you, Master Merchant. I did not expect to see you here!"

"Yes, well, when Mother wrote to me saying my sister and her family would be here, I thought it would be nice to see them," Harold glanced back at the king's table and grinned at Charles. "You know as well as I do when my mother suggests something, it is more like a command. I did not dare refuse."

Sipping his wine, Charles nodded. "Indeed."

"But it is good to be here now," Harold continued. "Mother told me that there are more people here than have come in many years, no doubt because of Robert being here. I've been able to talk with men as far away as Carlisle."

"You are doing well, I take it?" No matter the man's own skill at acquiring gold, Charles privately thought that it did not hurt him that his sister was married to the king. Harold nodded.

"The prize rams you sold me two years ago have done their work, yes. I now own several ships thanks to the trade in wool." The merchant gave Charles a short account of his doings since the last time they met. He asked if the shepherd would be bringing his flock to market at the end of the summer.

"In Staithes?" Charles ran a hand through his hair. "That is a far distance. I confess, I rarely go there. The last time I saw you was the last time I traveled there."

"You should consider it," Harold crossed his arms. "I've rarely seen animals of such quality since. Although it also means I have had to spend or trade less." He frowned, lines appearing between his eyes. "It does surprise me you are _not_ wearing the cloak I traded you then. You remember how reluctant I was to give it to you – don't tell me you lost it!"

"No, no," Charles said quickly, fingering his new one. "This was a gift from my children to wear today."

"How very touching," Harold muttered, still perturbed. "But surely you remember what the oracle said about it?"

"Of course I do," Charles replied. It was plain the man regretted handing it over. _It was a fair trade!_

"He said it was destined to be worn by someone who dwells in both the divine halls as well as the mortal realm," Harold rubbed the top of his head. "It does not fade or decay. Nothing will ever stain it. As a pious man, I would have thought you would have worn it on the most holy day of the year!"

With difficulty, Charles resisted rolling his eyes. He knew Harold did not believe much that he could not see. Not even hearing words from an oracle would change his mind. Doubtless the merchant was only annoyed that such a valuable possession was no longer his. Charles was devout, yes, but he was skeptical of the oracle's claims. _Anyone could tell such a story._

"It is a fine cloak, nothing more. I take good care of it," he said. "And if I choose to wear it, or not, it is none of your concern."

Harold was no longer giving Charles his attention; rather, his gaze was fixed on someone behind him.

Somehow Charles knew who he was looking at without turning around. He looked anyway, just to be sure of himself.

Elsie.

Harold coughed. "You could have told me you gave it to someone else. I would be angry with you for doing so, but not when it was given to someone so worthy of it. Even a shepherdess." He tore his gaze away from her. "Her beauty touches the divine."

"She lost her old cloak in a flood," Charles explained, feeling his face redden. "I gave that one to her simply out of kindness." _You could have given her another one. Not your best one._

"And she wears it well. It looks better on her than on you," a familiar voice piped behind them. Martha put a hand on Harold's arm. "Dearest, go talk to Cora. You haven't been in the kingdom for years, and she's missed you. You can talk women and gold all you want later."

Harold opened his mouth to protest, but his mother gestured at him to leave.

"Go," she raised her eyebrows. Before going back to the king's table, Harold spoke again.

"Charles, if you decide to bring the flocks to market, send me word."

Martha steered him toward a path along the river. Charles swallowed the rest of his wine and hurriedly dropped his cup on the table as they passed by. He felt rather nervous. He had every intention of speaking with the matchmaker that day, but now that the moment had come, his mouth felt dry.

"I'm sorry it's been so long," she said, saving him the trouble of speaking first. "First the floods, then this spring. It's as though everyone's caught love fever. I told Violet she needs to tell the goddess to calm down."

Charles suppressed a laugh. "I don't suppose she took that well."

"Of course not. The same accusations about not giving the gods proper respect," she snorted. "I give them plenty – just not in the way _she_ does! But never mind that," she waved her hand. "You wanted me to find a suitable wife for you. You'll be happy to know that even with your many requests, I was able to find several women."

He felt as though his tongue had turned to stone. "Oh? Th-that is good," he stammered.

One was a woman from Loxley who had been engaged, but her betrothed had died before their marriage. Two others were widows, both with children of their own. A third widow lived alone.

Charles listened politely. He knew of each woman, except the one from Loxley. All of them were admirable. If he had heard of any of them before the spring, he might have married one of them.

But he was not the same man as before.

Even though he had changed his mind about Elsie, he wanted to respect the matchmaker for her work. He did not feel much guilt over saying no – after all, she was paid regardless of what he chose to do.

"Is there anyone else?" he asked when she was done.

"One other, though I doubt you would agree to it. She was the youngest of those I found. I haven't had the chance to speak with her yet. But more important," she broke into a smile, "I think someone's caught her eye, and it's not you."

Shrugging, Charles looked out at the river. Several children splashed about. "Well, if she wants someone else, then don't bother telling her about me. If she's young, I doubt she would want me anyway." He turned to her, curious. "What's her name?"

"Anna. She serves my granddaughter-"

He went completely red in embarrassment. " _Anna!?_ " he choked out. "What made you think I would see her as fitting for a _wife_? I don't…I…" He had never felt such mortification in his life.

"Well, as I said, I doubted you would agree to her," Martha was completely calm. "Do you have an idea how difficult it was to find _anyone_ I thought you would agree to? Yes, she's young, but she gets along well with your children. And she had one of the kindest hearts I know, but she isn't afraid to speak her mind when she has to."

"I know," growled Charles, "but…I cannot. I cannot even _think_ of it. Yes, Daisy and Thomas get along with her, but as a _friend_." He felt as though he would never be able to look at the young blonde woman again without crumbling of shame. " _Please_ don't tell her about me."

"I won't," Martha said, raising her eyebrows. "As I said, I think she favors someone else now. But what of the other women? Do you want to make any of them an offer?"

This was the moment he had been waiting for. He swallowed, licking his dry lips. "Thank you for your work, but no. I…actually wanted to talk to you. About someone."

"Oh?" She did not seem surprised at all, rubbing her hands together. "Who?"

He closed his eyes briefly. "You will laugh at me, and you have every right to. Elsie."

Martha looked up to the sky, holding her hands up. "Praise be to Eala! I see the goddess has _finally_ gotten through your stubborn skull! I _knew_ you would never give that prized cloak to anyone without reason!"

His face grew warm again, though he did not mind her reaction much. "I would like to make her an offer…that is, if she has not already accepted one." Charles had not forgotten his last conversation with the matchmaker. The thought that he was too late, that Elsie had already accepted someone else, was unbearable.

 _Please, Beautiful Lady, look upon me with favor. Please grant the desire of my heart._

He had never prayed so hard to the Goddess of Love for anything, whether speaking out loud or not.

The matchmaker looked back at him, her expression inscrutable. "She has not. In fact, it should make you happy to know that nearly all the offers I have received on her behalf have been withdrawn."

The thought of the path being clear to him made him sigh in relief, before another thought crossed his mind. "Why?"

Martha shrugged. "Who knows? Perhaps the other men found other women, perhaps they do not like a woman with red hair. Perhaps they simply changed their minds, as you did."

He stared at her intently. "Is there no other reason?" _Why would_ _all_ _of them withdraw their proposals?_

She stared back. "If you're suspicious that her character is in doubt for some reason, let me reassure you. I have talked with Elsie myself, and her reputation is beyond dispute. But you would know that better than I do. _You_ are the one who sees her from day to day. No doubt that is why you changed your mind."

"Yes," he said vaguely, still thinking. He could not understand it. _But you still have a chance._ "Well," he cleared his throat, "I would like to make her an offer. I have _not_ talked with my children specifically about her, but they know I…am fond of her." _Daisy knows, or suspects at least_. He tried to brush aside the uncomfortable thought about what Thomas would say.

Opening the small pouch that hung on his belt, he held out several gold coins. To his surprise, Martha closed his hand over them, and pushed his hand away. "No," she said softly. "I will not take any gold from you, nor will I make any proposal to Elsie on your behalf." She smiled at his dumbfounded expression. "You are more than capable of wooing her yourself. You don't need me."

"But-but having a matchmaker is the _proper_ way of doing things," he protested. Martha laughed, shaking her head.

"And plenty of people find each other without me," she said. "Proper?" she scoffed. "I was not offended when Joseph asked Phyllis to marry him. I'm only offended when someone comes to me asking for help, then later refuses to pay." She patted his arm. "I know you and Alice were brought together by a matchmaker, but that was when you were barely more than a boy. You're long past those days, I'm sure you will agree. And if the wheelwright can ask the woman he loves without my help, you _certainly_ can."

He opened his mouth to argue again, but she only grinned at him.

"All right," he said, his heart hammering. It occurred to him that Elsie would likely rather hear a proposal from him than from someone else. "Thank you for your help, though it did not go very far."

Martha waved it off. "I was only doing what you asked me," she said. "For your sake, I am glad you came to your senses. I think you've talked to this old lady long enough. Go find Elsie, and may Eala bless you."

She had thought briefly of telling Charles what she had told all the others. That the shepherdess was already betrothed. But in all her years, she had never seen two people so well matched. _What will be, will be. If she truly does not want him, let her tell him herself._

Charles hurried back to the table. In dismay, he saw that the merry group of family and friends had gone. Another family had taken it over. He looked frantically in every direction. He was relieved when he glimpsed Edward, who was eating bread and heading in the direction of the marketplace.

"Where did everyone go?" he asked, not wanting to ask about Elsie directly. Edward swallowed and wiped his mouth on his arm.

"Anna, Daisy, Ivy, Sybil, Thomas and I are going to see some acrobats before the competition," he said, pointing in the direction they faced. "Um…I'm not sure where Joseph and Phyllis went. They might be heading to the marketplace, too. I saw Elsie and her friend Beryl going to the river. I _think_ Beryl's husband was going with them. I'm not sure where Alfred and Will-"

"That's enough," Charles said, cutting him off. Edward stopped, looking embarrassed. The older man remembered his manners. "Thank you," he smiled at the young man. "I forgot how many people were sitting at our table. I hope you had enough to eat."

"Oh, yes sir," the young man nodded eagerly.

"Good." Charles laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Can you make sure my children behave themselves?"

Edward grinned. "I'll try."

* * *

A tall man flipped a tiny girl high over his head. She somersaulted twice before landing safely on her feet. The crowd gathered around gasped and applauded.

Daisy was clapping heartily when someone yanked her aside. She cried out in surprise.

"When," Thomas whispered at her ear, "were you going to tell me Father gave Elsie his cloak? After they married?"

"Let _go_ ," she said, struggling to break her brother's grip. Ivy turned and tried to pry him off, but he shoved her away.

"This is between us! You wanted to weave a new cloak for him for Midsummer," he turned to Daisy, "did you think I wouldn't find out what happened to his blue one?" Thomas didn't know what hurt more. His father running after another woman, or his sister knowing and not telling him. _We tell each other_ _ **everything**_ _._

 _Or we used to._

"I was _going_ to tell you, but I didn't have the chance," she whispered, twisting against his fingers. "I didn't want to write and tell you that way. I thought you would rather hear it from me directly. Anyway," she rolled her eyes, "they are _not_ getting married! Elsie lost her cloak in the floods. Papa was just being nice. Calm down!"

"Open your eyes," he hissed, "and don't be such a child. He likes her, that's plain."

Daisy wrenched her arm out of Thomas's grip. "I'm not the one acting like a child." Her glare was so much like their father's he almost stepped back. " _I_ like Elsie, too. She risked her life to save Old Sally's lamb, from what Alfred and Jimmy told me. And she's really nice. _If_ you would try to get to know her."

"I have tried," he said, the memory of that day in the meadow coming back again. "She-I can't explain it, Daisy, but she's _dangerous_ -" His sister snorted.

"That's just daft!" She shrugged off remembering Elsie throwing the crook. "If she was angry with you before, then I'm sure it was because you were rude! Papa hasn't been this happy since before Mother died. If _you_ weren't so stuck on yourself, you might think about how other people feel." She put her hands on her hips. "It's a wonder Edward puts up with you."

Thomas wanted to argue with her, but he could see she would not be swayed. His heart sank. He turned and stormed off, not looking where he was going. Only several steps away from the girls, he completely flattened an old man. He jumped up immediately. The man groaned, his stick underneath him.

"Are you all right?" Daisy ran over. She held out her hand while Ivy took the man's other one. They helped him to his feet.

Thomas could not stop himself from staring, and neither could the girls. The man was without doubt the ugliest person they had ever seen. Wizened and hunchbacked, his scraggly beard trailed down his chest. His arms were muscular, but so long they looked disproportionate to the rest of him. His cloak had several holes in it, as though it had been burned.

He brushed himself off, doing it as if he had done it many times before. "Yes, thank you, young missy. And you," he nodded at Ivy. Daisy gave Thomas a pointed glance.

"Um, I am sorry," he said. "I-wasn't looking where I was going." The old man smiled, showing several teeth missing. Thomas fought to keep his disgust from showing.

"Then you had better keep your eyes open, boy," he started to laugh. It quickly turned to a wheezing cough.

"Er – do you want us to get you some wine?" Thomas asked, sharing a worried look with the girls. The man shook his head, pounded his chest.

"No need. I get these coughing fits at times. Comes from a life of working in the smoke and heat of the forge," he sounded downright cheerful.

Ivy and Daisy looked at each other, both clearly thinking the same thing. _He's mad._

"There is something you young ones _can_ do for me," he leaned on his stick. "Would you happen to know where the blacksmith is? Fellow named John. I hear he needs some help."

Thomas could not imagine anyone less helpful. The man looked like a strong wind would blow him over, never mind picking up a hammer to strike metal. "I saw him with the king earlier, but I think he's gone to the riverbank. You might find him there."

"Thank you…" the man gestured, evidently asking for his name.

"Thomas," he offered.

"I'm Daisy," his sister stepped forward. "His sister. And this is my friend Ivy," she gestured at her friend, who was still staring at the wrinkled man.

"Thomas and Daisy, brother and sister. And Ivy." The man gave a little bow. "You can call me Old Joe. Or Burns." He fingered his singed cloak. "You can see why."

He hobbled away in the direction of the river, the lad and two girls watching him go.

"I think I've seen him before," Ivy said, breaking the silence. The other two looked at her. "Well, I can't be sure," she frowned. "But several years ago, I remember someone a _lot_ like him coming to Uncle for a burn salve. I don't remember his name. It might have been Burns. He scared me, he was so ugly," she said, raising her eyebrows. "That's why I think it might be him. Have you ever seen someone look like _that_?"

"No," the other two agreed. The girls drifted back to the acrobats, and Thomas followed them.

"Oh, are you coming back? I thought you were angry," Daisy said. He rolled his eyes.

"I can watch if I like," he snapped. "Besides, Edward's here now." He went to stand next to him.

After what Daisy had said about Elsie, he did not want to be alone. But inside he felt terribly alone.

 _Father's going to do what he likes. And Daisy seems happy to let him._

 _Even if you tell Edward, he won't understand. Not really._

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry this update took so long! It's another marathon. I intended to introduce one new character, but ended up with two introductions. And an extremely important conversation. No Chelsie, but there's a lot to get through. I will make it up to you all.**

 **At the rate this is going, there might be two more chapters just of Midsummer. I hope I'm not boring you all to death!**

 **Thanks for the reviews, comments, reblogs, etc. I live for feedback, if you have time. Thank you!**


	15. The Key

**A/N: Midsummer, Downton reunion Part III. This day is turning into the longest ever. Well it IS the longest day of the year…**

 **To the guest reviewer who said, "I can assure you, the very last thing in the world that I am at this moment is bored", well I'd propose marriage to you if I wasn't already married!** **Please sign up so I can answer your other question!**

 **Thank you all for your reviews, reblogs, etc. on this fic. I love you all.**

* * *

Sparkling under the midday sun, the lake shimmered next to the line of trees. The small group huddled in the scant shade.

Sybil joined them not long after they had sat down.

"It was not easy getting away from the girls," she said, smiling. "It's fortunate there are so many people in the village. When we go back to watch the competition I'll tell them I lost them in the crowds."

William teased her about her larger nose. She shrugged it off, saying she changed it to ward off unwanted admirers, as well as to rid her and her mother of any suspicions about their relationship.

Albert asked to hear what had happened since Elsie came to the village. All of those present knew some things, but none of them knew all of it. She told them almost everything, beginning from her first day, when she met Charles at dawn at the shrine.

She could not bring herself to tell them of her shared kisses with Charles. The very memory of them was too painful. Nor did she speak of her love for him. Sybil shifted next to her once, but said nothing.

Elsie thought it would be enough for her friends to know that she cared deeply for the shepherd. Much more than she should. She did not dare tell them any more than that. _The less they know, or suspect, the better. It is bad enough that I dance on a knife's edge._

"Well," William said when she was done, "it's obvious he cares for you. I am sorry for him – he seems like a nice man." He rubbed his hand through his hair.

"But there's the rub," Beryl said, leaning against Albert. "He _is_ a good man, yes. But a _man_." There was sadness in her eyes Elsie had never seen before. "I think it would have been better if you had gone home before now, but what's done is done."

"I couldn't stay away," Elsie murmured, feeling a lump in her throat.

"Why?" Albert asked. She flinched at his tone, though knowing he didn't mean to hurt her. "What keeps you here? I know marriage to Victor is not agreeable to you, but what other choice do you have?"

Sybil put her arms around her, resting her head on Elsie's shoulder. "There is more," she said carefully, knowing her mother would not want her to say. "We need to find a choice for you, if there is one. Simply going home is not enough."

"Oh no," whispered Beryl, her eyes widening in alarm. Elsie was unable to look away from her friend. "Oh no, _no_ , please tell me it's not true!"

"What's true?" Albert and William asked together, looking from one woman to the other.

"That she loves a mortal," a voice said above them.

A figure sat on a high branch. He seemed to shine, a golden light emanating from every pore of his skin. His winged sandals, also gold, flashed in the sun.

Sybil leaped to her feet. " _Tom!_ "

He left the tree to fly down to them. Landing gently on the grass like a leaf, he embraced his wife. Her shoulders shook as she clung to him.

"You love Charles?" Albert pulled on his beard with one hand, holding Beryl's hand with the other. "Is-is that _possible_?"

"Yes," Tom said to him over Sybil's shoulder. He pulled back a little to kiss her, and cup her face in his hands. "I know you're frightened, love."

Elsie stood up and put her hand on her daughter's back. "I never wanted to frighten you," she whispered.

"It's not you, it's what could happen that frightens me," Sybil said. "What Grandfather could do. Or Victor. To you, to the mortals." She smiled bravely. "I will always be strong _for_ you."

"We all will," Beryl nodded as if to convince herself. She, Albert and William came over to greet Tom.

The Messenger God let go of Sybil and reached for Elsie. They hugged, Tom not letting go until she did.

"How did you know?" she asked in his ear. He quickly clasped hands with Albert before hugging Beryl and William. They all sat down by the lake, dangling their feet into the rippling water.

Elsie felt as though a weight had lifted off her shoulders at the sight of her son-in-law, and one of her oldest and dearest friends. _He sees both sides, the divine and mortal, like no one else._

Tom raised his eyebrows at her. "You have not been careful, you know. Not to those who can see. When Charles carried you to the village I expected every moment you were going to seduce him on the spot. Never mind your sprained ankle!" He grinned. "And I've seen more than one person lose themselves in lovesickness over you. Now you're getting a bit of your own back. You've got a glow about you, your eyes are brighter around him, and you want to be near him all the time. In the meadow, during a flood, at night at the shrine-"

"Have you been watching my every move?" Elsie felt a blush from the crown of her head down to her chest.

"Nearly. You should be glad, too. Glad that it's been me and not others. Your restraint has been…beyond anything _I've_ seen. The King, either. He did not expect that at all. He had the notion that once you desired a mortal, you would have to come back within a day."

"Did he _assume_ I would want a man?" Elsie asked. "That makes no sense. He gave me his blessing to go!"

"Wait," William said, leaning forward, "did _he_ do this to her? On purpose? Make her fall in love with the shepherd just to get her back home sooner to marry Victor?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Beryl said, scowling ominously. "You remember how angry he was when you enchanted him to fall in love with those mortal women from Shackleton…"

Elsie's heart plunged right through her chest. Beryl was right; she could easily see her father doing such a thing. What if all of it had been part of some devious plan? To make a fool out of her? There had been liaisons between the gods and mortals before, but in the divine realm they had been looked upon as passing affairs. The mortals had always been cast aside afterwards, to be forgotten.

If they had not been destroyed outright.

"Are you telling me," she asked Tom through dry lips, "that my father _forced me to fall in love with a mortal?_ "

"No," he said, looking her in the eye. There was a finality in his voice that was clear. "It _was_ his intention at the beginning. That is true. But then he saw you were already enamored with Charles."

She felt a relief so strong it almost made tears come to her eyes. _It is of my own free will then._

"I don't understand," Sybil frowned. "If he knows what she feels, then why has he not done anything? That is not like him."

"I think," Tom kicked his feet in the water, "he hasn't done anything because _Elsie_ hasn't done anything yet. He can hardly punish her for kissing-"

" _What!?_ " Beryl screeched, slapping Elsie on the arm. "You didn't tell us that!"

Elsie rubbed her arm. "You make it sound like it is more than it is!"

Sybil's mouth was open in surprise, but there was an unmistakable gleam in her eye. She exchanged a look with Tom, a smile playing on her lips.

"So – how was he?"

Elsie gasped at her audacity, and Sybil laughed at her expression.

"Better than any divine being, apparently," Tom said, crossing his arms, an amused look on his face. "You never responded to Marcas like that. Or me. If I wasn't happily married, I'd be jealous."

Albert groaned, getting to his feet. "If you're going to talk about _that_ , I might as well go back to the village!"

"No, stay," Beryl grabbed his wrist. "Really Mr. Trickster, Tom, whatever you want to call yourself, we need to figure out what to _do_." Her blue eyes were serious. "This cannot go on, and we all know it."

Everyone was quiet. In the distance, birds chattered.

"If you're worried about the King, you should not be," Tom said. "He is entranced by a nymph far south of here. His attention will be taken up for some time."

William flopped onto his back. " _Again?_ "

"That should not surprise you," Elsie playfully ruffled his hair. It did not surprise her in the slightest. All the better if her father were occupied. "But what about Victor?"

Tom took a deep breath. "I left him just before coming here. He was still at his forge. Working on the belt for you. He…he told me to tell you he hoped you thought of him while you were away. He said he thinks of you all the time."

Elsie's face seemed to say everything. He forced a smile. "That's what I thought."

She closed her eyes. "I do not wish him ill. But to be his wife…" She could not finish.

"I'll say what I did before. I think the only choice you have is to leave," Beryl said, sliding over to take Elsie's hand. "I know it would be painful, but isn't it better to do so now, before any real harm is done?"

"I agree," Albert said. "Did you not tell your father that you wanted to learn how the mortals lived without love? And we will all be with you still. You will never be alone, you know."

Elsie nodded, unable to speak. What they said made sense. _I must leave. No saying goodbye to anyone._

She put her hand over her mouth to keep in a cry.

"Tom?" Sybil turned around. He stood with his back to them, facing the rolling hills to the west. Trees blocked the view to the shrine.

"You all speak what you think is wise, of course. But your reasoning is flawed. You all, Elsie included, look upon her loving a mortal as if it were a _bad_ thing."

Everyone turned to stare at his back at the same time. He still faced away from them. "Being in mortal form, you can't see what I can," he said. "And even were you all standing in the King's hall right now, you still would not see what I see now."

"Which is?" Elsie asked, her heart hammering. He had often been known to play tricks on others, to make jokes. But there was nothing but sincerity in his voice. He turned around.

"I can see both sides clearly – the divine and the mortal. And whenever you and Charles are together, there is a symmetry, a balance. I've never seen anything like it. Like the sun and moon, the earth and the sky."

He looked into her eyes. "You need to stop thinking about it as if it is wrong. You already know it is not," he said, "like a whisper in your heart. That's why you are drawn to him, why you can't force yourself to leave him. No, it doesn't solve the promise you made to your father, or to Victor. But you and Charles were meant to be together, that much is clear." He sat down again next to Sybil.

"Of _course_ ," the black-haired young woman said, a smile growing across her face. "That is why you have a storm within you, a war with _yourself_ , Mother. What brings two beings together? Something within that is missing."

It almost seemed too good to be true. And yet she felt as if she was standing before a locked door, and the key was in her hand.

"But I _am_ Love," she said. _The last question_. "What else do I need?"

"Him," Tom said softly. "You need him. This is not a question of pure desire, or lust, or even pleasure on your part. But you need something with this man that I cannot explain."

What response she would have given him was lost. Instead, she flinched, holding a hand to her forehead.

"What?" Sybil touched her arm. "What is it?"

Elsie's eyes fluttered along with her heart. She shook her head, almost laughing at the irony.

"This is the day the mortals pay homage to me, the Goddess," she said, touching Sybil's cheek. "Naturally, I have been getting their prayers since before dawn. But just now-"

"It was his," William finished. "Charles's prayer. What did he say?"

"You know better than to ask that!" his father scolded him. "Mortals deserve to have their petitions kept secret, even from among us!"

"Not always!" William argued.

Elsie watched the bright water, the sun's reflection. " _Please, Beautiful Lady, look upon me with favor. Please grant the desire of my heart_ ," she whispered. It was not just his close proximity that gave his request such potency.

It was as though he had simultaneously shouted and whispered in her ear.

 _It is not only the desire of his heart, but of mine._

Beryl sighed. "I can't believe I'm asking this," she said, glancing at William. "But do we even need to ask what he meant by it? I assume he meant you."

Elsie nodded silently, feeling like the morning she came, that she was running, flying down the path. Towards him, not away. "He does not desire me only as a lover-"her face flamed-"-but also as his wife. Charles wants to marry me."

A sparrow called above them.

"Do you want him?" Tom murmured. It was not meant as a gratuitous question, and Elsie knew it. She ran a hand through her long hair, the sun catching its vibrant color.

"Yes," she whispered. "He needs me. And you are right – I need him."

He grounded her in a way no one else did. When she was with him, she felt as though she was where she belonged. As if for her entire existence she had been waiting for him. His heart was fragile, yes, and yet he had held hers since the moment she saw him.

Why such a phenomenon had happened was still a mystery to her. But all that mattered was that she, Divine Love, loved him like no other.

She felt it was past explanation. There was still the crucial problem of Victor, but she no longer saw that as a hindrance. _My love for Charles is stronger than my fear of what could happen._

"Am I being wholly selfish?" she asked Sybil. "I know I must think of all the mortals before my own pleasure."

Sybil kissed her cheek. "Tom's right. There is a balance between you. Can you not feel it? You are at peace now." They held each other's hands, their foreheads touching. It felt to Elsie like the vibration from a lyre string echoed from her heart.

Getting to his feet, Tom brushed off his tunic. The air around him was tinged with gold. "Now we know what has to be done. Beryl, Albert, William – after today, you all need to return to divine form. No, listen," he said as everyone got up. "If we are to _help_ Elsie, more of us need to be able to keep watch. Beryl, the King's current obsession is a nymph that resides in a river between wheat fields-"

"I'll go there, make sure he stays distracted," she said. "He could be there for a century."

Tom nodded. "I will go with you. Elsie," he touched her shoulder. "I will tell the King that you wish to stay for several years in the lives of mortals. One day to him is like a year here. He's being generous right now, I can get thirty years out of him." He snapped his fingers.

"Thank you," she said, letting out a breath.

"After I do that, I will keep watch on Victor like I'm his hammer."

"I can do that," Sybil said. "But I would not mind staying here either, to keep an eye on things."

"Stay here for now," Tom said, stroking his chin. "You have Robert and all the court to contend with. And Thomas, for that matter. He cannot do much to come between his father and Elsie – but the fact that he thinks she's dangerous could be a difficulty."

"He thinks I'm _dangerous_?" Elsie asked. "I know he doesn't care for me, but that seems extreme." Tom raised his eyebrows.

"You did nearly lose your temper with him. It had an effect, though he does not understand why."

"Oh yes," she carried the cloak as they began to walk back to the village. She almost felt like skipping, her heart felt so light.

Albert put his arm around Beryl's waist. "I will come with you. Help you keep the King fixed on his latest conquest." They exchanged grins, knowing that is would not be difficult. William and Tom were deep in conversation. The tall young man looked up.

"I will be in the fields as well this summer, but I can still help keep watch on Victor."

"I cannot thank you all enough," Elsie said, putting the cloak back on, despite the heat of the day. "You all are risking punishment by helping me. I won't forget it."

"What is life without a little risk?" Beryl asked. "I have always wanted to see you as happy as you are now. That makes it more than worth it."

"Hear, hear," William said. He and Sybil linked arms, walking down the hill. Tom stopped by a tree just before the village came into view. Elsie turned, pulling up her hood.

"There is another reason why you want my daughter to stay in mortal form," she said, giving him a piercing look. She reached out and squeezed his arm. "And it means _everything_ to me that you want her kept out of the King or Victor's wrath if…"

"If anything goes awry," he nodded. "They would not be able to do anything to her. Not as long as she is hidden among people." He took a loose tendril of her hair and smoothed it under her hood. "Are you absolutely sure you want this?" he whispered. "Even if all goes well, and you stay here for years, Charles will still die."

"I know," her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, and her chin wobbled. "But I want to be with him for as long as I can. And when I cannot be with him anymore…" she took a shuddering breath. "Then I will return home."

Tom gave her another hug, then a soft kiss on her cheek. "I will come see you again," he promised. "Until then, I wish you every happiness with your shepherd. And don't worry," he grinned, "You and he will be alone on your wedding night. No one watching."

"Tom," Elsie looked down at the ground, blushing. When she looked up again, he had vanished.

* * *

 **A/N: And so the door is open. I know it's been a lot of doom and gloom before this, so thank you for sticking with this story! Coming up next, the competition.**


	16. Pankration

**A/N: This is Midsummer, part MCMXCVIII. I'm sorry to keep these chapters so long, but characters and the plot keep intruding! There is a lot of point of view switching back and forth here, with overlap in different scenes. I hope it is not too confusing.**

 **Pankration is a sort of mixed boxing/wrestling competition that was popular in ancient Greece. There were not many rules; sometimes men died fighting each other. For the purposes of this story, I have described more of the wrestling side of things, as much as I understand it. I'm no expert on it.**

 **I crave reviews, reblogs, epic comments, random questions, and the last Oreo left in the package. I love you all.**

 **I do not own Downton Abbey.**

* * *

Charles could not find Elsie anywhere. Several times he thought he saw her, and his heart flipped over.

But it was never her. The riverbank was beginning to swarm with people. Families further upstream to enjoy the water under the hot sun, and young men and boys on the broad flat plain halfway down the hill to enter their names to the judges.

He was bumped and jostled several times, not paying attention to where he was going. Once someone knocked a vaguely familiar old man into him, and he propped him up before he fell and was trampled. A hunchbacked loner with a ragged cloak. Charles murmured an apology and set him upright on his feet again before moving on.

Burns scrambled into the shade of a myrtle tree, watching the tall man move through the crowd. He gasped when his eyes fell upon someone passing by the shepherd going the opposite direction. Scrambling up the riverbank, the old man vanished into the village, unseen.

It was nearly time for the competition to start, and Charles had to give up the search. His eyes were drawn towards the hedge further up the hill from the river. The lively chatter and laughter of women and girls was clearly heard, even if most of them could not be seen.

He hoped Elsie was there.

Four circles had been outlined in the ground on the flat plain. Sand from the sea had been sprinkled into them, making them gleam in the bright sunshine.

"Ah, there you are," John sat with the other judges. They were busy taking the names of the men and boys wanting to compete. "I was just about to send someone to find you. You _are_ entering, aren't you?"

"Yes," Charles said, laying aside his cloak. "Although with the additional competitors I doubt my chances are very good."

"They may be better than you think," John said, his eyes twinkling. He nodded at Bill, Joseph's father, who was a fellow judge. "There are some newer faces that look challenging, but we speculated you still have an edge."

"Now don't give him the wrong impression," Bill grumbled. "You make it sound as though _we_ are making wagers on the matches – which of course we are not!"

Charles laughed. "I would never think you or John would compromise your integrity."

"Are you trying to influence the judges? For shame," A man with greying hair and a round face spoke up behind them. Bill, John, and the others all stood up. Charles straightened up, then bowed.

"My Lord."

Robert smiled, putting his hand on Charles's shoulder. "It's been a long time, my friend. You look well."

"Thank you," Charles thought the same. "As do you. Are you going to enter?"

"I am," the king answered. He rubbed his hands together, clearly relishing the prospect. "I may be older than many here, but I think my chances are as good as anyone's. Including yours," he said before turning to the judges. "And I expect _all_ of you to treat me the same as the others. No favoritism."

They all nodded. Robert walked towards the center circle, where a crowd was gathering to pick lots. Charles knew the matches would be random.

"As if he needs favoring," John murmured. "He throws a wicked punch. I doubt that has changed since the last time he was here." He grinned, nudging Charles. "Your face was swollen for days after."

Charles rubbed his fingers over a spot near his temple. He had managed to win that match and the competition that year, but still carried the scars. He hoped to avoid such physical punishment this time; it would hardly do to try to talk to Elsie afterward if his nose was broken.

 _I will have to take care as much as possible._

He and John joined the others in the circle. John separated the boys from the men, and made sure all the competitors picked one lot. After everyone had been paired off, another judge blew a horn to signal the start of the competition. Those who were fighting first stripped to the waist and entered the circles.

During the matches, it was difficult to hear with all the cheers, boos and enemies' taunts, friends shouting advice. Mixed in with the crowd on the right of the circles were those making wagers and passing money. The crowd there was all men.

The whistles, cat-calls and cheers from the women behind the hedge up the hill were louder, even with the distance. But that was normal.

Sitting next to Richard on the ground, Charles watched the first several matches with interest. He recognized a few of the faces. He was pleased to see Andrew enter a circle to begin another boys' match. The lad was clearly nervous, spitting on his hands before the fight started.

"Keep your head down, and your feet moving!" William yelled from his spot in the crowd of spectators.

Charles snuck a glance to his left, seeing Ivy at one end of the hedge. He thought he could see the top of Daisy's head, her eyes peeking over the top. Looking to her right, his left, he passed over several people before he saw the sun reflecting off Elsie's red hair. He thought he could hear her cheering.

"Oh well done, Andy!" Richard suddenly bellowed next to him. Charles snapped back to attention. Andrew had deflected a punch off his shoulder, ducked low, and tackled his opponent. He flattened the other boy in a matter of seconds. The judge threw down his rod. The boys got to their feet, and the judge held up Andrew's arm, signaling the victor. The crowd roared, the other competitors standing up to applaud. Albert and William waved their fists in the air.

Andy was tackled by Alfred and Jimmy coming to congratulate him. "Well done, you've got a taste of it now!" Jimmy thumped him on the back.

"Make sure to wave to your admirers," Alfred grinned, nudging him in the side. Andy looked up the hill to see Daisy waving a green-colored flag. He waved back, his smile splitting his face. Shaking hands with his defeated opponent, he left the circle with his chest puffed out.

"He's won his first match, and that's good for me. And Tom," William said in an undertone to his father. Albert raised his eyebrows.

" _Tom_ asked you to put down wagers for him? How many?" he clapped as the next boys were introduced. The crowd roared louder as another match ended suddenly, that one between two men.

"Only three," William notched the result on a stick he carried. "On Andy, Charles of course, and someone from Shackleton. Henry, he said. Help me keep a lookout for him. He said he was a tall man with dark hair."

* * *

It was far more crowded behind the hedge than she had thought, although Elsie wondered why she was surprised. It was a longstanding tradition that the women kept themselves from sight as much as possible (hence why they were so loud), so everyone was crammed next to each other.

"Take off the cloak," Beryl whispered in her ear at one point. "This is madness, it's too hot with it on."

Elsie slipped from her spot next to Sybil and removed it, placing it with Daisy's and Anna's on the ground. She breathed deeply, feeling the relief of the slight breeze. When she returned to her spot, she found Isobel introducing the others to a tall woman with pale blue eyes.

"This is Elsie, a shepherdess new to the kingdom," the priestess gestured at her. "Elsie, this is my cousin Cora."

"My Lady," Elsie curtsied to the queen. "We are honored by your presence here."

Cora's eyes were wide, and she blinked rapidly. Her voice, however, remained courteous. "It is an honor for _me_ to see such beauty. The goddess has richly blessed you, Elsie. In fact," she laughed quietly, "I'm not sure I want the king to see you!"

"Don't exaggerate, Mama," a striking young woman with dark hair and eyes stepped from behind the queen. Next to her was an old woman. "It's one thing to be polite to our subjects, but fawning praise is beneath you." She then turned and looked at Elsie for the first time.

She only just kept herself from letting her mouth fall open. Emotions rippled across her face. Shock, disbelief, and awe flickered in her eyes. She took a step sideways, and almost fell into Cora.

Elsie sensed hurt and immense jealousy. Behind it all was a heart that projected self-confidence while hiding her own fears. A heart that had loved a man once, then lost him. She kept her expression calm.

 _She has never been challenged before. Not like this._

She tried not to enjoy the moment too much. _Be fair._

"Your name is Elsie?" the woman seem to struggle to find words. "Your parents must have had no fears about tempting the gods' wrath. Not many would name their daughters after the goddess Eala. Are they still alive?"

"Mary!" scolded Cora, looking embarrassed. "There is no need to be rude!" She turned to Elsie. "I apologize for my daughter. There is _no_ excuse for her lack of manners."

"I accept your apology," Elsie said, feeling only slightly annoyed. It was obvious to her that Mary was a woman who had not been allowed to fully grow. _She is much stronger than people think._

"Sometimes curiosity is stronger than manners," the old woman next to Mary surveyed Elsie with interest, her large eyes gleaming. "Cousin Isobel has told me about you, shepherdess. Until now I scarcely knew what to think. Where did you live before you came here?"

"Merton," Elsie answered, looking directly at her. Isobel huffed impatiently.

"Yes, I already told you that," she said, reaching out and linking her hand through the woman's arm. "Elsie, this is my cousin Violet, the other priestess at Eala's temple. She has," she forced a breath through her nostrils, "an insatiable curiosity. About everyone."

The crowd of women behind them suddenly roared so loudly all of them turned to see the commotion.

"Oh dear," Violet said, her voice raised, "I should have known. It's that foreign man that's so popular with the ladies." She tapped Mary on the shoulder. "Try to restrain yourself, my dear." Mary went red, but said nothing. She, her mother, and the priestesses returned to their place, the crowd making way for them.

Beryl turned and pulled Elsie back into her place at the hedge. "You remember Kemal. I'm _sure_ you do."

" _I_ do," Sybil said, a little grin on her face. Beryl pretended to be shocked.

"You're a married woman!" she hissed as the women cheered. Elsie's ears rang.

"I am only looking," Sybil said, waving her little flag above her head. "Not touching."

"I think he's beautiful," Anna's face was pink, her eyes dancing.

Elsie couldn't help smiling. "He is that," she murmured, sucking in a breath as the handsome young man strutted into the center circle, clearly enjoying the attention. He waved at the hedge, his broad smile visible. Elsie quickly decided to look elsewhere, and was happy to see Andy getting ready to start his match. Ivy cheered.

"Oh _no_ ," Daisy groaned, wringing her hands. "I had a flag but I lost it!"

"Here," Elsie handed her a green one. "Take that one. I'll find something else to wave." They turned their attention to Andy.

Cora fanned herself as she watched Kemal's match. "Isobel, I'm surprised you said nothing about Elsie before now. My mother told me that half the men in the kingdom were after her."

"What would I say about her? She is beautiful, yes," The heat was untangling Isobel's bound hair. She pulled several strands out of her face. "But it is hardly the only aspect to her character. What matters more is that she is kind and brave."

"I hope for her sake she stays with her friends, especially today," Cora sighed. "I would hate for her to be hurt. There are so many strange men here."

"Too true," Violet agreed, pursing her lips. "Perhaps we should encourage her to stay in the temple tonight."

Isobel shook her head. "I hardly think that's necessary." Their conversation was drowned out by cheering and whistling once more. "Oh, Andrew won his match! How thrilling," she smiled and clapped, glancing at Daisy and Ivy.

Violet moved next to her. "I do not think we should diminish the effect the shepherdess may have on others," she said in a low voice. Isobel leaned over to hear her better. "Men have been driven to war for less."

Her cousin raised her eyebrows. "What do you _really_ think of her?"

Violet looked back at Elsie, who had her arms around Daisy and Sybil, cheering with them. Her hair gleamed in the sun, and her skin had a rich glow to it. A sudden blush covered her face, and she looked away from the men in the distance.

 _As though_ , Violet mused, _she does not trust herself to look. As though she feels the need to restrain herself. As though it is_ _she_ _who is dangerous, and not men with their inflamed passions._

When Elsie gripped the hedge, breaking off small branches without seeming to notice, it confirmed her opinion.

A small smile crossed the old woman's face.

"Well, now I've seen everything," she said.

* * *

Richard went to sit down after congratulating Andy. "Where are you going?" he asked Charles, who remained standing.

The shepherd held up his small stone. "My match is after the one finishes there," he pointed to the circle at the western side of the plain.

"May the gods favor you," the healer shook hands with him. Charles forced a smile before climbing down the slope a little way. He sat down, staring at the river for a moment.

 _You are being foolish. It is simply part of the competition._

Stripping to his waist, he tried not to think about what Elsie would see.

 _I wasn't a bad-looking lad when I was young. Nothing special, but not bad either. But now I am old._

By necessity, he had remained fit. Looking after flocks was not something for men with soft hands and easy lives. He stretched, for once feeling rather bashful. He ignored his strong legs and hardened arms, choosing instead to wince at the silver hairs mixed in with the black on his chest, the softness of his belly.

 _She is so beautiful, and I am…_

The crowd roared. Charles went to see the commotion, and saw Bill raise Kemal's arm, declaring him the victor in the match. He swallowed.

… _nothing like him._

He shook his head, willing himself to concentrate. It would do no good to think about what he looked like. And it would only make him feel worse if he was defeated in his first match. In front of Elsie, no less. Pride surged through him at the thought. _I've_ _ **never**_ _lost the first match! Ever!_

 _And I am not about to start now._

His opponent was someone familiar. "Oh dear," Anthony said, smiling when he saw Charles. "I was hoping I wouldn't face you for a while."

Charles returned a smile to the tall blond man. "Likewise. It seems the gods had other plans." Fighting the wealthy farmer from Loxleigh was always a challenge. Young men usually underestimated his talent, and scorned his withered arm, but Charles knew better. In truth, he would have preferred to fight someone younger. Untested. Rash. Anthony was none of that, which was precisely why he was so dangerous.

As they shook hands in the circle, Charles heard a buzz in the crowd. "Anthony, do be careful," Robert yelled, clearly enjoying himself. "I have a wager that you'll win!"

John laughed as he took his place next to the circle. "My Lord, Charles will make you regret you didn't bet on him."

In the circle to their right, Jimmy and his opponent were preparing to begin also. But when the two younger men saw the match that was to begin next to theirs, they exchanged glances with each other, and with their judge before kneeling in their circle to watch. The boys preparing to fight did the same.

Charles closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. It was a mark of the highest respect that the other competitors waited to fight until their match was over.

It was an even fight. Anthony nearly toppled Charles twice, driving him to his knees. Both times he managed to get to his feet in time. It was fiendishly difficult to keep hold of Anthony; he had learned well the secret to winning. _Never let an opponent grab both your hands._

It was when Anthony tried to punch him that Charles knew he was getting the better of him. Still, victory remained in doubt until Charles knelt over him, hands firmly gripping Anthony's wrists. When both of his shoulders touched the ground, John threw down his rod.

Charles stood up and held out his hand to help Anthony up. "Well done," he said, clapping his hand on his shoulder. "I thought," he gasped, trying to get his breath back, "I thought I was finished when you knocked me down the first time."

Anthony grinned, shaking his head. "My mistake was thinking you _were_ finished." They clasped hands once again as the crowd roared around them. John grabbed Charles's wrist and held it up. He was shouting, Charles knew, but the noise around them was so loud his voice was swallowed in the din.

He couldn't help sneaking a glance up the hill toward the hedge. The sun had moved a little, making it difficult to see individual faces. He could make out Daisy, waving a green flag. John turned him in a circle to acknowledge the crowd.

Charles did not see Elsie cheering, her eyes shining as he left the circle.

* * *

"No wonder they all love Kemal," Beryl remarked to Ivy and Anna, clapping as the young man raised his fists in triumph at the end of his match. "He's the sort to make a girl shiver all over."

Sybil laughed, turning to ask Elsie if she agreed. The smile faded from her face and she rapidly grabbed her mother's hands, wrapping an arm around her waist. " _Stop_ ," she breathed in her ear. "You're breaking the hedge."

At the sound of her daughter's voice, Elsie came to her senses. She let go of the twigs in her hands with a gasp. Beryl, aware of the danger, slid another arm around her. "It's him, isn't it?"

Elsie nodded, not daring to look up again.

"Where?" Sybil asked, watching the men in the distance. "There," she said to Beryl, "I see him. He's about to start a match."

Daisy shouted on their other side, not noticing the three huddled together. "Papa!" She waved her flag over her head. Phyllis, Anna and Ivy clapped next to her.

"Can you not even watch him?" Sybil asked softly. They could hear the roar of the crowd by the circles. "He would want you to."

"I know," Elsie said. She leaned back a little, taking in the wispy clouds above them.

It had frightened her, the strength of her desire. Not even on the day she had met him had she been as overcome as the moment she saw him walk to his circle, covered only below the waist.

 _He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen._

It was like she was there with him. She could almost feel the tense muscles in his shoulders, the hair on his chest. His fingers rubbing together, his pounding heart. If only she could kiss him, tell him how much she adored him-

Beryl sighed, stroking Elsie's hair. "It's hardly a surprise," she whispered, keeping a firm grip on her friend. "On Midsummer, _your_ day, your power is at its peak. Tom was right – you've shown great restraint. Maybe it's too much."

Elsie shook her head. "No. I just – need a moment." She took a deep breath. _I will_ _ **not**_ _lose my composure. Not now._

She looked up in time to see Charles grappling with the blond man. Both were trying to grab each other's hands, looking for the advantage. She spent the rest of the match half-holding her breath or biting her lip, watching his every move. She gasped aloud when he fell the first time, along with all those around her. When he successfully pinned his opponent, there was an explosion of cheering and whistling around her. Sybil pointed at the queen and Lady Mary. Elsie was immensely gratified to see them cheering Charles.

Beryl let go of her, and Elsie clapped wildly, her hands above her head. It felt so different, the pride she felt for him. He had fought well and honorably against a worthy opponent. But that was no promise of victory. If he was a god, the ending would never have been in doubt. But the mortals were accustomed to defeats as well as triumphs.

 _All the more reason to savor it._

Matches were fought in an endless cycle. Alfred was cheered on by Ivy, Daisy, and his aunt Sarah. When he won, Sybil clapped also, a genuine smile on her face.

"I have never seen Sarah smile like that," she commented. She was quick to tease Anna shortly after. "There are some great matches going on," she nudged the young woman. "Are you ever going to watch them, or are you just going to stare at John's back all day?" Anna blushed, but did not contradict her.

Jimmy won two matches before he was soundly defeated in the third. Edward was unstoppable, a fact that made Elsie look for Thomas in the crowd. He was more animated than she had ever seen him. His face flushed, he seemed to forget his usual reticence, shouting at the top of his lungs. She smiled at his open joy.

After Robert won his match, Cora danced in excitement. She was heedless of her dignity, something which her daughter seemed to scorn. But Mary later let some of her own reserve slip during a tense match. Sybil whispered to Elsie and Beryl, explaining.

"That's Henry, from Shackleton. Mary's known him since they were children. He's a brilliant fighter as you see, and Tom told me he is a nice man."

 _Interesting,_ Elsie thought, watching the king's daughter's expression soften as she watched the dark-haired man. _She cares for him. But she is extremely reluctant to show it. She is afraid of being hurt._

It occurred to her that she and Mary might have something in common.

Beryl laughed until she cried listening to Violet and Isobel tease each other. It was Violet's turn first, when the healer Richard won his second match. "You certainly create no aura of mystery," she called to her cheering cousin, tilting her head. "But then I suppose you enjoy making a spectacle of yourself!" Isobel, her grey hair unbound and tumbling down her back, glared at her. It was diminished by her wide smile.

"We'll see how long you retain your composure," she retorted, "when Igor fights in the next match." She pointed in the distance. "Look, there he is."

A barrel-chested man with long silver hair and beard shook hands with Joseph. The wheelwright looked nervous.

"Oh dear," Sybil said soon after the match began, "I did hope for Phyllis's sake that he would get farther in the competition, but-"

Beryl whistled as Igor pinned Joseph within moments. Elsie raised her eyebrows and glanced at the priestess. "Well done, Violet," she murmured, out of earshot. The proud woman betrayed little except for a small smile and two pink spots on her face. Her eyes glinted.

"I wanted Joseph to win just one more time," Daisy groaned, hugging Phyllis. "But maybe it is better that he did not. Otherwise he would have to fight Papa!"

Elsie sucked in a breath, preparing herself once more. Phyllis leaned against Daisy and Anna. "I am proud of him all the same," she said. "He wanted to win at least three matches, and he did! He has nothing to be ashamed of!"

"Especially this Midsummer," Isobel agreed. "There are more men here than I've ever seen before."

The crowd next to the circles had swelled as the defeated joined them. After Charles beat Igor, the older man went to sit down next to Richard. Alfred lost to Robert, who congratulated him warmly.

"You see? His Lordship knows a good lad when he sees one," Sarah bragged. For once no one contradicted her.

Andy barely lost to a strong boy from Merton. Daisy was disappointed, but perked up when the victor won the final boys' match. "He only lost to the champion!" she said to Elsie. "For his first time in the competition, he was amazing!"

"Make sure to tell him," Elsie said, smiling. "It would mean more coming from you."

All of the matches left were being fought by men. Among those they knew, only Edward and Charles were through to the next round. Thomas had to face Kemal. With great trepidation, Elsie watched him slip out of the handsome man's grasp time and time again, using his flexibility and his wits to elude him. When Thomas managed to trip him, and Kemal fell, the women gasped and cheered.

Daisy was beside herself with joy, hugging Phyllis, Anna and Ivy. Elsie watched Thomas leave the circle. Charles held out his hand to congratulate his son, but the young man turned aside, refusing to shake his hand. She frowned.

"Why does he not even acknowledge Charles? He is being _very_ rude," she said. Beryl nodded, her eyebrows raised, before going to hug Daisy.

"I will say something to him later," Sybil promised, folding her arms. "His Lordship was sitting right there! Even if Thomas doesn't care about his father, he _will_ care about offending the king…"

Before Elsie could agree, a sudden scent filled her nostrils. It was so strong it brought tears to her eyes. And sent her heart plunging into the ground.

Sulfur.

 _Victor._

 _No. He_ _ **CANNOT**_ _be here. Tom only just left his forge! Victor is not faster than him! It is impossible that he could be here now…no, no, it cannot be…_

She stumbled away from the women, away from the hedge. Clusters of women and girls blocked the way up the hill, but she slipped through them, her eyes darting everywhere. She saw no one remotely like her betrothed, although she knew he was capable of disguising himself in more than one form.

It was tempting to ask those around her if anyone had seen a blond, heavily scarred man. Or a stocky woman with a thick braid. Or an ugly, hunchbacked man. But she did not. Without her cloak and hood, she was all too aware of people looking, staring as she ran past. She did not want to draw any more attention to herself than necessary.

Following the horrible smell, she crested the hill. She held her arm over her nose. A group of boys, armed with rotten eggs, were happily pelting each other with the disgusting objects.

Her heart turned over. Warily, she looked around for any sign of Victor. She saw none.

She choked out a laugh, her heart still beating terribly, then turned and ran back to her friends.

"Where did you go?" Sybil asked, weaving her arm through hers. "I turned around, and you were gone."

Elsie shook her head. "It's nothing. I thought I…saw something, but it was just children playing."

Anna swept her hair out of her face. "We know why Thomas ignored Charles. Well, other than just being his usual self, that is."

"Why?" Elsie sought out Daisy. The young girl's eyes were wide.

"Because he and Papa have to fight each other."

* * *

 **A/N: The next chapter is already written, and will be posted later this evening. Thanks for reading!**


	17. Father and Son

**A/N: Aaaaand Midsummer, MCMXCIX.**

 **IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER, DO NOT READ THIS! THIS IS THE SECOND CHAPTER POSTED TODAY.**

* * *

Edward rested, one leg underneath him, and an arm on his head. "He's _brilliant_. I've never seen such a skilled fighter." He nudged Thomas. "You should have watched your father. At least once."

"Why?" he kept his eyes firmly on the ground. He knew he was being childish, but he could not help himself. "I don't have to anyway," he argued. "You forget I've watched him fight for years."

 _And he taught me. When I was a small boy. When he still cared about me._

 _Before Mother died. Before he put invisible gods over his visible children._

 _Before he made a fool out of himself over a woman._

 _ **Her.**_

He had glanced up the hill numerous times that afternoon. Seeing his sister, Phyllis, Anna and Sybil had been a great comfort. Knowing they were cheering him. Every time he caught a glimpse of the red-haired figure, though, he averted his eyes.

 _I bet she wants me to lose. 'A woman of mystery' – what on earth did she mean by that? Was she being clever? And there's something off about William, too…_

"I think I have learned his strategy," Edward continued, interrupting Thomas's thoughts. "I hope you know it, because now _you'll_ have to fight him. I do not envy you."

"It would not be the first time," Thomas murmured. Two years previously, he had insisted on entering the men's competition rather than stay with the boys. It was a fit of pique, an explosion of temper. He had basked in his two victories over much older, bigger men. He thought he was ready to take on anyone.

Then he was matched against Charles.

And he lost. Badly.

What made it worse was the memory of his father convincing John to let him enter as a man. Then later, during the match, knowing that Father had treated him like a _boy_. He knew his father had not gone all out against him; he could tell he held back. And he _still_ lost.

The humiliation still stung.

 _This time it will be different._

" _You_ have to fight his Lordship," he nudged Edward. "That will not be easy. I hope you protect your face, because if he punches you, you won't be able to see for days."

Edward nodded, pinched his nose. "The king holds nothing back, and expects nothing less from his adversary." He patted Thomas on the back. "It is time."

Thomas looked at his father. Charles was walking toward the circle, his face betraying nothing. Puffing out a long breath, Thomas stood up. He nervously rubbed his fingers together.

Keeping his face absolutely still, he entered the circle. John was to his left. All of the noise, the crowd shouting, whistling, cheering, booing, faded away. He could not hear the river behind him.

The two shook hands. Thomas's heart was beating fast; he thought he might be sick. _Get on with it!_

John was announcing them, then explaining the rules again. Thomas forced himself to blink. Charles backed up several steps, his eyes not leaving his son's.

John held out his arm between them, making sure they both were ready.

Then he dropped his arm.

* * *

When Thomas stepped into the circle, Charles thought he would cry. _My boy is now a man._

He set his jaw to make sure his chin did not quiver. If he showed weakness now, he was finished. And the last thing he wanted was to give his son a worthless match. He deserved more.

 _I want to see how he handles his anger toward me._

When John signaled for them to begin, he was not surprised that Thomas did not immediately attack him. He had taught him to be patient, to let his opponent make the first move.

The two circled each other, half-crouched, staring at each other. The late afternoon sun reflected into Charles's eyes. He had to break eye contact.

Thomas immediately lunged forward, his hand clamping down on Charles's wrist. Charles tried to shake him off, but Thomas held on. Charles elbowed him in the side. A sharp tap. Thomas gasped and let go. They both tried to grab hold of the other's hands, but neither succeeded.

Charles stepped forward, aiming his shoulder for Thomas's chest. He bumped the young man, making him stumble slightly. But Thomas had anticipated him and spun out of his grasp. When Charles turned to face him again, Thomas's fist was already on its way. The punch landed squarely under Charles's chin. His head snapped back, and he fell backwards.

 _I did not see that coming,_ he thought as he tumbled onto the ground. His son was on him as quick as lightning. Charles swung his leg and half-tripped him on the way down. Thomas fell heavily onto Charles. The bigger man turned his body sideways so as not to get pinned. But in the instant that Thomas had landed on him, Charles had a flashback to when he was young. _He used to lay on my chest and fall asleep._

Combined with the shock of the blow and his memories, his heart ached within him. _I have_ _ **never**_ _struck my children. Never. Not even in a match._

 _He must hate me. My son hates me._

He was brought back to the moment, grappling with Thomas's wrists. It was as though someone had deafened him, then given him hearing again. The crowd was roaring, screaming. Nothing coherent.

"I know," Thomas hissed in his face, frantically trying to push him back down.

"Know _what?_ " he growled. He wiggled forward, Thomas's foot painfully shoving against his calf. He suddenly wrenched a hand from his son's wrist, reached up and pushed his head back hard. Thomas yelled and let go of him. Charles had just enough time to scramble to his feet.

With a howl, Thomas jumped up. They slammed into each other, arms gripping one another. Charles felt his knees lock, and forced himself to bend them. He was stronger. But only just.

For a long time, they grappled, equally matched. Every inch one pushed, it took the other an enormous effort to hold him back. The sun beat down on them. Sweat dripped from Thomas's hair.

"I _saw_ you with Elsie," the young man gritted through his teeth, his face red. "Saw how you were with her…you gave her your cloak!" He felt as though he were trying to move a solid wall. Charles grunted.

"Yes," he gasped, a bead of sweat making its way down his face. "But that is my own affair!"

"You're having an affair with her!?" Thomas choked, tried to twist his grip on Charles's forearm. The resistance propelled him back and he tripped. He managed to catch his balance before grappling once again. "So you've already forgotten Mother! I _knew_ it!" He began to bend Charles's arm back relentlessly.

 _Enough._ _Enough._

The movement of his arm slowed. Thomas let out a gasp, his eyes blazing. Feeling his temper rising, Charles focused on his words, on what had to be said. " _No_. I have done _nothing_ with Elsie! Nothing improper, boy!"

" _DON'T LIE TO ME!_ " Thomas roared, pressing against his arm with all of his strength. Charles hooked his foot behind his son's leg.

They both went flying, this time the advantage with the father. Thomas flipped onto his belly, desperate to not get pinned.

"I am NOT lying to you," Charles felt a deep grief. _My own son thinks I am a liar. What else does he think of me?_ "I would _never_ lie to you!" He managed to pin one of Thomas's shoulders down, his mouth by his ear. "What I feel for Elsie…is something I never thought I would feel for a woman ever again." _More_ , beat his heart, but he knew that was something Thomas was not prepared to hear. "Forget your mother? I never will!"

"Get onto your side!" Edward screamed through the noise. Thomas flipped onto his side, his legs twisted opposite from the rest of his torso. _Torn in two._ He hardly knew what to think. _Keep moving. Never stop moving._ Reaching behind Charles, he yanked his hair. His father let out a roar that would wake the dead. For his trouble, Thomas quickly found his other wrist in his father's grip.

"When I see Daisy, and see you, I see her. Alice," Charles gasped. "You are her gift…and she was always proud of you. As I am."

 _Keep…moving…_

With a final shove, the struggle was over. Thomas stared at the sky, pinned to the ground. The roar of everyone around them made the earth vibrate beneath him. Charles got to his feet slowly.

Thomas covered his face. The weight of defeat was overwhelming. _I lost. Again._

 _Did he really mean that? About Mother?_

When he took his hands away, he saw his father looking down at him. Charles held out his hand. There was pain in his eyes, worse than Thomas had ever seen before. He knew that his father knew that Thomas felt nothing but contempt for him. He felt guilt welling up in him, as well as his own tears. His heart felt like it was being torn asunder.

Part of him wanted to slap Charles's hand away, but at the last moment he remembered the king was watching. Charles hauled him to his feet and embraced him before he could get away.

 _Let go of me. I can't bear to see what I've done to you. Leave me alone._

"I am proud of you," Charles whispered. "I will always be proud of you. But please try to understand – I never want to hurt you, but I must follow my own heart." He pulled back a little to look him in the face. "I love her, Thomas." His voice broke as he took a shuddering breath. "I believe Elsie loves me. I do not ask for you or Daisy's consent to marry her, but I would like your understanding."

"Why does it matter if you have it or not?" Thomas turned his head, feeling weary. "You will do this, no matter what we say."

"Yes," Charles admitted. "But that does _not_ mean I disregard your point of view, or Daisy's. This is not a decision I have made lightly." Charles was unsure if Thomas was listening, but he continued anyway. "When the time comes, I will not expect you to need my approval before you make vows with Edward. But I hope you seek my support."

Thomas's face flamed. _How did he know-_

"Do I have your understanding?" Charles asked, his hands still on Thomas's shoulders. His son stared at him, his mind in turmoil.

If he could keep things as they were, or bring Mother back, he would do it. But it was impossible. He thought of Daisy, how much she needed a guiding hand. _Father will not know what to do with her, and I will not be there._

He remembered the look on his father's face when he walked with Elsie at the shrine. His shoulders back, how at peace he was.

 _As if he found something he had been searching for._

His chest hurt, and his head pounded. Why, _why_ did it have to be Elsie? He did not trust her.

 _Do you think she would hurt him? You warned her to stay away, and she got angry._ That day in the meadow when she had insisted she would never use Charles for her own purposes.

Thomas would never know why he answered him, or gave him the answer he wanted. Maybe it was look in his father's eyes. _He asks you for something now. As a man would. Will you deny him?_

 _What if he is truly happy with her?_

"Yes," he mumbled. He looked somewhere in the distance, unable to look directly at his father. A smile cracked Charles's face as he embraced him again.

Placing his hand on the back of Thomas's head, he whispered his relief. "Thank you, son."

John then approached them and they separated. Charles's arm was held up, signaling his victory. Thomas's shoulders slumped and he stared blankly at the ground.

 _I have lost everything._

* * *

Edward hugged him, not caring that others were watching. "You did very well. You have nothing to be ashamed of," he whispered. Thomas nodded, resisting the urge to put his head on his shoulder and cry. He wanted, more than anything, to go off somewhere to be alone.

Alfred, Jimmy and Andy came over to congratulate him. They all insisted he did well.

"I never would have lasted that long," Alfred said. "Let alone _hit_ him – we could feel the force of it over here!"

They settled once again in the crowd. This time it was Edward's turn to be nervous. He managed a wan smile before getting up to stretch, flexing his fingers, shaking off his nervousness.

Thomas gladly drank some wine offered by Jimmy. Wiping his mouth, he saw Richard and John talking to his father. He caught a glimpse of Elsie behind the hedge. She was laughing, her hair glimmering in the sun. He looked away, scowling.

"Was the man you fought your father? Your friend told me so," a man with dark hair sat down next to him, gesturing to Jimmy.

"Yes," Thomas said. The man looked familiar. "Did we have a match earlier today?"

The man smiled. "That we did. You defeated me in fairly short order, but after watching you just now, I don't feel so bad about the beating. That was very well done." He held out his hand. "My name is Alexander. Or Alex, if you like."

"Thank you. I'm Thomas." They shook hands.

Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I confess, I was curious about you after our match. You're not like most here," he said under his breath, plainly trying not to be overheard. "You fought with real intelligence, as well as skill. It's clear you know something of the world. More than one small village."

Thomas straightened up a little. It was gratifying to know that others noticed. "I grew up here, but I serve the king now." Alex nodded.

"I thought so. I'm from a kingdom east of here. Just passing through, thought I would enjoy the local Holy Day. I too serve a powerful man." He pointed at Robert, who was preparing for the match. "Is he a good master?"

"Yes. On the whole, he's quite generous." Thomas crossed his arms. "What about your master? Is he kind to his servants?"

"Kind may be the wrong word, but he does reward those who serve him well," Alex replied. "I have no complaints." He leaned a little closer, almost too close. "My master is very rich. He does enjoy the finest things, which is no surprise. The fastest horses, the richest wine…the most exquisite women."

For some reason the way he said it made the hair on the back of Thomas's neck stand up.

"Well," he said through dry lips, "you won't find any of that here in Downton."

"The horses and wine, true. But Jimmy told me of a woman here that I think my master would like very much. He said," the curve of his lips rose in a smile, "that she is a shepherdess who lives close to your home. Elsie?"

"Yes," Thomas said, strangely reluctant. "She…she has not lived here long. I've only seen her a few times myself." _If Father is successful, I will be seeing her much more often._

"Well," Alex jingled several gold coins in his hand, "once the competition is over, would you show her to me? No introduction is necessary. I simply want to see her for myself. To bring a tale of beauty back to my master. If I am pleased with her, I will give you gold."

Thomas stared at him. "You simply want to _see_ her? And for that you would pay me? You have an unusual master if he is only content with hearing about a woman."

"He's not unusual. A sophisticated one, yes, with a taste for magnificence. If I had only heard about Elsie from Jimmy, I would not ask you this," Alex played with the coins in his hands. "But ever since I arrived here last night, I have heard endless stories about her." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. If you would rather not, I am sure I can find someone else who knows her."

"No, no," Thomas said. _When else will I see gold like that?_ "I will show you. I know all the paths around here."

Alex grinned. "I'm glad to hear it."

* * *

The match between Edward and Robert became a legend. It was not the longest, but it was one of the most dramatic. The king with age and experience behind him, as well as his powerful fists, against Edward's youth, speed and strength. Back and forth they went, the crowd roaring and chanting with every twist, every blow.

In the end, Robert was able to land only one solid punch on the young man. It was not enough to win. Thomas thought he would go hoarse from cheering when the king was pinned. Smiling through his blackened eye, Edward acknowledged the acclaim from both the crowd and Robert, who was magnanimous in defeat.

"At least," the king said to laughter, "I lost to a young man in my own household. I can take some comfort in that!"

The final match was something of a let-down to some watchers. Not to one black-haired youth who watched the two combatants, uneasy about the pairing itself. Thomas almost did not want to witness the fight. But he was not about to hide his eyes from it, either.

 _Even if I could not beat my father, it would be justice to see Edward win!_

Daisy turned to Elsie in despair before the match began. "I want Papa to win of course, but I like Edward, too!"

Elsie put an arm around her. "That means you'll be pleased with whoever wins, think of it that way." She did not know Sybil's friend well, but he was a kind soul, that much was clear.

 _Although I would much prefer to see Charles win._

She clenched her fists, barely breathing as they fought. Once, she let her eyes drift from the circle to the crowd. She could see Thomas, leaning forward, his eyes focused, his hands clenched into tight fists as well. Letting out a small laugh, she shook her head.

 _You and I are not as far apart as you may think._

When Charles fell and was pinned, she was disappointed for his sake. But she cheered and applauded with all the others when Edward was declared the winner. The young man seemed incredulous at his good fortune. The crowd spilled into the circle and lifted him on their shoulders. Elsie saw Thomas next to a shouting Andy.

He was crying.

* * *

He hardly cared that people saw him cry. Or that when Edward was finally set down again, he embraced him in such a way there was little doubt of their affection.

"You won," he choked, trying to stop crying. "You _won!_ It was brilliant!"

"I never could have done it without you here," whispered Edward into his hair.

"First you defeated the king, then the champion!" William roared, thumping Edward on the back as they were swarmed by the crowd. So many people were pressing around them that Thomas lost his grip.

"Don't lose him!" he shouted at William, who had managed to stick by him. The blond young man nodded and gestured to Jimmy and Alfred, who were caught up in the mass of people.

Albert grabbed Thomas and Andy, dragging them with him down to the riverbank. The older man, Thomas thought, was stronger than he looked. From Andy's expression, he agreed. "Meet us down here!" Albert bellowed at William. He puffed out a breath, sitting on a patch of grass. "Better for us to stay in one place than get scattered like sheep, wouldn't you say? Unless you wanted to go and greet your father," he said to Thomas.

It was the last thing he wanted to do. Especially after their earlier conversation. But he got up anyway, so as not to make Albert suspicious.

There was still a big crowd of people milling about. For the first time since the morning, there were women and girls mixed in with the crowd. Thomas craned his head, trying to see if he could find Daisy. If he was fortunate, he would find her before she met Father.

 _I can tell her what he wants to do._

"There you are." Alex stepped next to him. "It looks like the females have left the safety of the hedge," he pointed cheerily up the hill. "Shall we go find the shepherdess?"

"Just a moment," Thomas frowned, impatient. Then he saw Daisy.

She was with their father, Richard, and Ivy. The priestesses were there as well. Thomas saw his little sister nod, a huge smile on her face. Charles bent over and gave Daisy a hug, then a loving kiss on the top of her head.

Alex shuffled next to him. "What are we waiting for, then?"

Thomas turned aside, briefly closing his eyes. "Nothing. This way."

He led the man in the opposite direction, up the hill and onto a narrow path leading south. They stopped several times so Thomas could look for Elsie. He finally saw her in the distance, wearing the familiar cloak once more, heading out of the village with the short woman he remembered with her that morning.

"Here," Thomas pointed, and the two went into the trees. From the direction she was going, Thomas guessed she was walking to the shrine.

They stopped halfway up the hill, the path to the line of pine trees on their right. Alex cursed. "My sandals are worthless, these needles stick into my feet-"

"Shhh!" Thomas put a finger to his lips. "She's over there, with her friend. Elsie is the taller one." He pointed towards them.

The evening sun threw an orange glow over everything. Downton was visible over the crest of the hill through the trees, masses of people moving to and fro.

"I hope she takes her hood off. I can't see her face from here," Alex muttered. The women kept walking up the hill, before stopping to look back at the village. Elsie hugged the woman, laughing at something she said. She removed her hood. Shaking her head, she pulled her long hair over one shoulder, clearly relishing the cool breeze on her neck.

Alex sucked in a breath through his teeth. It sounded like a hiss.

"There. You've seen her," Thomas said, hoping to leave. "I know she's beautiful, but she does have a temper. You can tell your master that. Trust me."

Smiling, Alex never looked away from the shepherdess. He held out a small pouch for Thomas to take. It felt heavy in his hands. "All the better. My master enjoys spirited women." Before he left to go back to the village, he patted Thomas on the shoulder. "Thank you. I will certainly see you again."

Perhaps he meant to be friendly, but to Thomas it sounded more like a threat.

* * *

Walking out of Downton, Charles scanned the wide crowd. "Do you see her?" he asked Daisy. She shook her head.

"You can see more than _I_ can, Papa. I'm too short!"

"Ah," he pointed. "There's Sybil, maybe she knows." They hailed the dark-haired young woman, who told them that Elsie and Beryl were going up to the shrine.

"I know Beryl's coming back sooner, though," Sybil said. "She has to meet William and Albert by the river." She held out her hand. "Daisy, would you like to go with me? Ivy promised to get me some of her honey bread. If it's all right with your father, of course."

"It is," he said. "But make sure you come home before moonrise with the lads. I don't want you walking home alone."

"I'll make sure they find her," Sybil promised. Daisy rolled her eyes.

"Papa, I'm not a child. I _know_ not to walk home by myself!"

Charles sighed and gave her a hug. "You do not need to remind me you're not a child anymore. I know," he said softly.

"Find her. May the gods favor you," his daughter kissed his cheek. "And…if it helps, tell her I hope she says yes!" She linked arms with Sybil. The servant girl raised her eyebrows.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

Daisy smiled, showing her dimples. "Maybe."

"You haven't seen Thomas, have you?" Charles asked. "I was hoping to see him again before he had to return to the king's hall tonight." Sybil shook her head.

"The last time I saw him, he was embracing Edward," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

He sighed. "It is not your fault."

Charles stood watching them go before smoothing down his tunic. He could not get one curl to keep from flopping onto his forehead. A quick swim in the river had washed away the sweat, sand and grime from the afternoon, but had also disheveled his hair.

 _Better to have wild hair than to stink._

He walked up the path to where it divided. Before he reached the trees, he saw Beryl walking toward him.

"She's in there." She opened her mouth, then shook her head. "It has been a wonderful day. I'm glad I was able to meet you."

"And you," he said. "Please tell Albert and William we hope to meet again."

"The same to you," she said, going past him. "Your Daisy is a special girl."

"Thank you," he smiled, before continuing up the path.

Beryl watched him with a worried expression on her face. "I hope you and _your_ special girl are careful."

* * *

Elsie leaned against a pillar. The scent of wild roses hung heavy in the air. Though there were people in the shrine, it was fairly quiet, especially compared to the noise during the competition. She smiled as two grey-haired women, holding hands, walked out of the main entrance. They shared a kiss beneath the arch.

"Good evening, Elsie."

She fought back a gasp at the sight of Charles. He wore his entire tunic once again, as well as a silver band around his right arm. His unruly black hair was even more so. The ends of it still dripped water.

"G-good evening," she stuttered. "Did-did you receive that as a prize?" she pointed at his arm. He glanced at it, smiling.

"I did. Of course young Edward received a gold one, as the champion," he said.

She folded her hands at her waist. "I am sorry you didn't win. But you should be proud." Her eyes twinkled. "I think I prefer silver over gold myself."

"Oh?" It was all he could do to concentrate. The afternoon sun had brought a rosy blush to her face, neck and arms. The golden light of the evening brought out several colors in her hair he had never noticed before – rich brown, the vibrant red of course, even some lighter strands that looked blond.

Sliding her hands from her waist down to the top of her legs, she stood up straight. "Daisy told me you have won the competition a number of times, as well as made the final match before."

"Yes," he hardly knew what he was saying. "I am not disappointed in how I did today, not at all." _Though it would have been better without Thomas shouting at me. Or hitting me._ "Were _you_ disappointed?" he asked suddenly. "There were more people there today than I can remember."

"Oh no," she said, her eyes soft. "Of course I wanted you to win. But you were superb, Charles." She reached out and touched his left arm.

The feel of her hand on his bare skin made his heart pound. He reached with his right hand and held it, wondering at how small it was inside his. He kissed the back of it before turning it over and pressing his lips to her palm.

He felt her shudder under his breath.

When he looked up at her, her lips were parted. Her dark blue eyes seemed to pierce through to his soul.

He took her into his arms and kissed her. She sighed into his open mouth, taking him in.

* * *

 **A/N: So the good news for the next chapter is that it will BEGIN with them kissing, rather than me teasing you for 5000 words before…**

 **Thank you all so much! Your support gives me life!**


	18. The Promise

**A/N: Midsummer, Part MM. I do not intend to spend this many chapters on one day in the future, but after THIS chapter, I have no idea.**

 **It was always my intention that what happens here would happen in the story, but I did** _ **not**_ **plan on having what transpired here happen here, if that makes sense. I hashed out some of what was going on in my brain (and heart) on Tumblr yesterday, if you want to take a look. Actually, don't do that, just read the chapter tell me what you think of it.**

 **This is going to be a very long story, with many moving parts. This chapter can be considered the first of the second section of it.**

 **I love all your comments, reblogs, etc. Special thanks to Batwings and Mistress Dickens for taking the time to review individual chapters – you all are rock stars! Also a thank you to ChelsieSouloftheAbbey who kindly listens to my angst and occasional torturous rambles about this crazy story. I think this fic has become the favorite of all I've written (so far).**

 **I hope you all like this** **. You've had a long wait.**

 _ **Amor omnia vincit. Te amo Omnes.**_

* * *

Charles, in her arms.

His mouth on hers was like cool water under the hot sun. A welcome feast after a fast.

The beat of his heart through his tunic, through hers, was both strong and fragile. A symbol of both his physical strength as well as his mortality.

Her own heart hammered; though she knew it would continue forever, she felt it beat in time with his.

 _As if it, and I, am at his mercy._

 _He has my heart._

His arms around her, his big hands on her waist, on her back, made her happier than she thought possible. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she caressed his with her own. She wound her hands along his broad shoulders to the nape of his neck. His skin there was damp, from his earlier swim. She pressed her fingers into the back of his neck to draw his head down closer to hers.

Whispering, soft moans and murmurs passed between them. The taste of her for him was like nectar to a bee.

Humming, she felt her entire body singing along. They kissed again and again, hard. His growing desire was unmistakable.

The edge of the knife on which she was perched was precarious indeed. One slip, and she would fall.

He pulled away, gasping, his forehead against hers. They held each other for one long, silent moment. Their breaths loud in the quiet evening.

The blush on her skin had, if anything, increased.

 _I want her more than anything._

 _Now._

 _Him. I want him._

 _Now._

The roses clinging to the nearby pillars poured their sweet perfume into the air. It heightened Elsie's senses, nearly overpowering her reason.

But its luxurious fragrance reminded her of the horrible scent from earlier. When she had thought Victor was nearby.

Elsie closed her eyes, leaning against Charles's chest. He drew his arms tighter around her. She knew it was meant to be comforting, a sign of his affection for her. She sighed.

"I am sorry."

"For what?" Charles murmured against her hair. She leaned back to look up at him.

"I have no claim on you," she said quietly. Her eyes showed sadness and even a spark of grief.

It upset him. _I should have spoken sooner. Now she feels guilty, and it is my fault._ "Please don't feel badly," he said. "Being here this evening…well, I wanted to speak to you." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You see, I went to see Martha. The matchmaker. I…wanted to make sure that there were no obstacles to…" he suddenly felt very shy, his face getting red. "That is, I wanted to be sure-"

"You went to see Martha?" she asked, her eyes wide. She dropped her arms from around his waist, tugging a hand through her hair. "What did she say?"

He reached for her hand, eager to comfort her, unwilling to end their touch. "That there had been offers made to you, but that they had been withdrawn." Smiling, Charles linked his fingers through hers. "I was so very glad to hear that. You must know how deeply I care for you, Elsie."

 _Martha did not tell him that I am not free._

 _Why did she not tell him?_

Elsie swallowed. "I do know," she half-whispered. She forced herself to look him in the face. As much as she wanted him, needed him, and knew they should be together, she did not want to keep any more secrets from him than was necessary.

 _I must tell him, since he does not know._

 _It will change how he thinks of me once he knows I am betrothed. He is a man of integrity and honor and…it would be wrong of me not to tell him._

 _What if he changes his mind?_

He took a deep breath. "I offer myself to you," he said softly. "It would give me the greatest joy if you would consent to be my wife, Elsie." His smile faded at the look on her face.

Her heart trembled within her. Part of her screamed to accept him. But another part of her wished for him to know the truth, as much as possible.

She almost could not get the words out.

"I want that, I do," she whispered. "Very much…but there is something you must know," she squeezed his hand. "I should have told you when we first met," she said, briefly closing her eyes. "I…I am promised to another."

Whatever he thought she was going to say, he did not expect that.

"W-what?" he said, his mind moving slower than chariot wheels stuck in mud.

"I am not free," she said in a slightly stronger voice, though there was a wobble in it. "It is my father's will that I marry someone of his choosing. A blacksmith, from Loftus."

Charles stared at her. _She is betrothed to another man._

 _Betrothed._

 _To another man._

 _Elsie._

 _Her father's wish._

 _But…but…I thought she cared for me. We kissed…I did not imagine the bond between us!_

 _Did I?_

"Why did you not tell me sooner?" he asked, his voice louder than he intended. He dropped her hand, but could not ignore the hurt in her eyes.

Or in his heart.

"I am so sorry, Charles," she whispered. "Please…I never meant to deceive you. Truly." She reached for him again, but he turned slightly away from her.

A flood of sensations engulfed him. Shock, anger, disbelief, sadness.

Catching sight of her at the shrine. Kissing beneath the ash tree in the rain. Watching her in the swirling water with the lamb. Her kindness to Daisy, and her forgiving spirit towards Thomas. Her, taking his hand just that morning before dawn. Anchoring him.

He closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head, willing himself not to cry. His heart screamed.

"It was _not_ my choice," she said thickly, past the lump in her throat. "My father knew I was unhappy with the betrothal when I left home. When I came here…I thought I would live in a place that would bring me peace for a time. Ease my troubled heart," her voice wobbled.

 _It is as I feared. He does not want me anymore._

"But from the moment I met you," she whispered, clasping her hands together, "you would not leave my thoughts. You are in my dreams. I cannot imagine existing without you. It was wrong, yes, but I was drawn to you, as a wave is pulled onto the shore."

Seeing him in the early light of dawn. Him carrying her, a stranger, to the village. Not taking her to the temple for punishment. Making sure the flocks were cared for while she healed. Kissing beneath the stars outside the hut. Him giving her his cloak. Caring for her.

Part of him did not believe her. _She has only been playing with you all this time._

 _No. She is telling the truth._

 _She never intended to fall in love with me, or with anyone._

 _But she did._

 _As I did with her._

Tears pooled in his eyes, and he blinked. They ran down his face and dripped off his chin.

 _I should have known she was too good to be true._

Looking up, he saw his own heartbreak reflected on Elsie's face.

He had never seen her cry.

It felt to her as though she were already gone, an unfathomable distance away from him. There was a gaping hole where her heart had once been. She hugged herself, the warmth of the day replaced with a chill.

To keep from comforting her was impossible.

Stepping deliberately toward her, he gathered her into his arms once more. "I felt it too," he whispered, his tears falling into her hair. She shuddered, weeping, against him.

"Is your father's word final?" he asked, stroking her hair. If there was any shred of hope, he wanted to find it. He did not want to give up, not now. "You said he knew you were not happy. Is there any way you can convince him to change his mind? Can I?"

Elsie lifted her face from Charles's chest. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and shone with tears. He did not know how it was possible that she still looked beautiful.

"I don't know. Maybe," she whispered. It was the best answer she could give. Nothing was certain. But the plan set in motion by her friends at least kept her from telling him no outright. "Although," she clarified, "I do not think he would listen to you. Perhaps he would to me. Perhaps." Doubt was heavy in her voice. "He will not be swayed by anything you would offer. And he rarely lets sentiment change his mind."

She knew quite well that neither one of them could talk to her father. Especially not Charles. _The best that could happen is that Father is kept from all knowledge of us for the remainder of Charles's life._

The thought of the man she loved dying brought more tears to her eyes. He cupped her face in his hands, brushing her tears with his thumbs.

"We must always travel in hope," he said, his heart beating a little faster, "as long as there is the smallest piece of it to cling to. Don't lose heart, Elsie."

 _I love her. Surely her father wishes her to be happy._

Her open sadness strangely gave him what he had longed for – a visible sign that she cared for him. If she did not, if she had simply been amusing herself, surely she could have told him of her betrothal without emotion.

He hated the blacksmith.

She nodded, and tried to smile. "You are right. Who knows what the future may hold…"

 _Not even the gods know everything._

"…or how much longer we'll even be here?"

"All the more reason," he said, "to grasp a bit of happiness while we can."

They stood holding each other as the evening deepened. A few people had lingered at the shrine, but as the stars began to appear above them, they found themselves alone.

Charles thought about what might change Elsie's father's mind. From how she described him, he was someone who would not be persuaded by a man's wealth, or by emotion. _What, then, would convince him to relinquish his daughter from a betrothal she does not want?_

 _Something irrefutable._

 _Short of marrying her,_ _then_ _telling him-_

His head snapped up, and he gasped. _You wouldn't_ _ **dare**_ _! Without a priestess to witness it!?_

 _Though it is not, strictly, forbidden. We are already here at the shrine._

 _We would not be the first ones, nor will we be the last._

 _Eala is more forgiving, especially on Midsummer._

Elsie looked up at him, a line appearing between her eyes. "What is it, Charles?"

 _She may have kissed you, but this…_

He was certain she would be offended. That she would never agree to such an improper plan.

 _I am in her thoughts, she said. Her dreams._

His heart pounded, and his mouth was dry. How much courage it must have taken her to tell him of her betrothal – especially when they had been in such a passionate embrace. She had trusted that he would listen, would not storm away.

Surely he could trust her in return.

He licked his lips, wetting them. Drawing her arms from around him, he held both of her hands in his. Her small, strong, steady hands.

"There may be a way to persuade your father," he said, his heart thumping painfully. "I may be going too far, but I think it's better to be honest. You were honest with me, so I should do the same."

"What is your plan?" she asked, watching his eyes flicker to hers in the dim light. _What is he thinking?_

"I wouldn't want you to think I would inveigle you into an arrangement which is not what you'd expect," he said. He started to sweat.

"I would never think that," she reassured him. Her curiosity was running wild.

Charles took an enormous gulp of air. "You said you are not happy with the betrothal, and that it is unlikely your father will change his mind." He gently rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. "When I offered myself to you, you said that you wanted to be my wife. Is that true?"

"Yes, that is true," she said, grateful he had worded it in such a way that she could answer plainly.

"What if we promise ourselves here, now? Your father would have to accept it," he asked slowly, not wanting to stammer. "We could go to the temple later and offer the sacrifice. It is not the traditional way...but there's one thing I do know. I'm not marrying _anyone_ else."

It was an extreme step to take vows on their own, but he could not bear the thought of letting her go. Not when he knew that she wanted to be his wife.

Her face showed complete shock.

 _Here?_ _Now!?_

Her mind reeled, and she gripped his hands harder, mostly to keep from falling down. Charles was the last man she would have expected to suggest making vows in such haste, and without the witness of a priestess.

 _He loves you. He is willing to stretch the limits of decorum to do this._

 _You have been watching the mortals for a long time. Before temples, before shrines, before priestesses and holy men, they promised themselves alone._

 _And the moon has not yet risen. It is still Midsummer Day._

 _My_ _day._

 _Our day._

Her friends' willingness to help her and Charles's prayer rang in her heart.

She truly wanted to be with him. Why not make it sooner rather than later?

Even considering her father and Victor not knowing, she did not want to risk waiting.

"Yes," she breathed. A sudden laugh escaped from her. "On Midsummer, the goddess is inclined to be more forgiving as well."

"True," he nodded, hesitating to smile. "I thought of that. So…do you agree? To take vows now?" He held his breath.

"Yes. If…if you're sure," she looked into his eyes, at the glimmer that shone like a star. "If Thomas and Daisy accept it, there is little reason to wait." She knew how much their approval meant to him.

"I have never been so sure," he breathed, his relief making his voice deeper. He kissed one of her hands, and the touch of his lips shot straight through her body. "Daisy said if it would help, to tell you that she hoped you'd say yes."

"Oh," a lump appeared in Elsie's throat. "Dear, sweet girl! My answer would have been favorable anyway, but it means the world to me that she is happy!"

"Thomas understands," he said, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her other hand. "He at least will accept it. Accept us." He sighed. "I hope one day he can be happy for us as well."

She had to concentrate, her heart beating rapidly, her skin warm once more. "We must always travel in hope, as you said. I will be kind to him," she whispered, pulling his hand to her own lips. "He is your son, and I will cherish him for your sake. And Daisy, of course."

Charles felt tears in his eyes once more. To have her speak openly of caring for them meant more than any words he could say. He breathed in through his nose, trying not to dwell on the touch of her lips.

 _You can think of **that** later._

"Shall we?" he gestured to the entrance to the shrine. She laughed quietly as they walked hand in hand.

"We could have walked in between the pillars," she teased.

He laughed. "Oh, I know, but it seems better to go in through the gate. Abide by _some_ of the traditions."

No torches were lit at the entrance, as it was Midsummer Night. Later, they both knew the full moon would flood the quiet place with light. The tall trees surrounding the flat place darkened it further. High above, stars were twinkling in the midnight blue. A white dove cooed from a nearby branch. Its feathers gleamed in the dark.

A more peaceful scene did not exist.

Elsie let go of Charles's hand and went to one of the vines climbing a pillar. She cut a strand of it, holding it in her hands for a moment, before rejoining her man on the footpath.

They walked through the entrance and into the middle of the circle, near to where the priestesses had stood that morning. They faced each other. She took his left hand in her own.

Charles was quiet as Elsie threaded the vine through their intertwined hands and wrists. A slight breeze rustled the leaves on the tops of the surrounding trees, but otherwise there were no other sounds. He cleared his throat, looking to see if she was finished. She smiled broadly, her eyes shining back at him. Her left hand rested on top of his upturned right one, the vine connecting them together.

"Eala, Divine Love and Giver of Beauty, look upon us with favor," he began, his eyes on their hands before looking at Elsie. "I ask you, Elsie, to take me into your heart as your husband, into your home as your man, into your body as your lover. I vow to love you as I love myself, to always cherish your beauty both within and without, and to bring you pleasure before satisfying my own."

The words were familiar to him. He had heard them many times from many different people. He had spoken them once before.

Standing in the middle of Eala's shrine on Midsummer Night, it was not only as if he said them for the first time; it was as if no one had ever spoken the vows before.

Her eyes brimmed with tears as he spoke, a smile trembling on her lips. Elsie felt the power of his words permeate through her body. They poured into her, beat from her heart.

 _No woman has ever felt greater joy._

He stood straight, his soft eyes gazing into hers. She wondered why he seemed slightly worried, then she remembered she had not yet answered him.

"I receive you, Charles," she squeezed his hand gently, "into my heart as your wife, into my home as your woman," her eyes darkened, "into my body as your lover. I vow to love you as I love myself, to always treasure your heart, and to bring you joy in our bed. May our union always honor each other, and honor the Goddess."

Somehow she kept a smile from her face as she spoke the last words. _He will never know how much Eala approves._

He beamed at her, his face alight. Reaching out, he caressed her face with his left hand.

"Wife," he murmured, before they kissed once more.

"Husband," she breathed into his mouth. He thought his heart would leap out of his chest at the sound of that word from her.

Sliding her right hand up his arm, she fingered his hair before resting her hand against his back.

 _I am his, and he is mine._

All thoughts of the gods, distant anger, and peril nearby vanished. There was nothing but him, her Charles, his large hand tracing the contours of her face. His gentle touch and soft lips.

They broke apart, laughing, when their bound hands got in the way of further touch. She shook her head. "This is a hopeless tangle," her nimble fingers worked at the vine. He pulled a strand of hair over her ear as she freed them.

Falling stars streaked across the dark blue above them. Other glimmered and twinkled as if they were alive.

Neither the man nor the goddess at the shrine noticed.

Their hands released, they wound their arms around each other as they resumed kissing. Elsie pulled at his tunic. She wanted more, and even the thin barrier of their clothing was too much. From the guttural moan of her husband, she knew he agreed.

"Stop, we must stop," he panted. The glow of the moon was beginning to break through the trees. Charles pressed another hard kiss against his wife's forehead. "I must go home, make sure Daisy and the lads are there…and tell Stowell and his nephew to stay until dawn."

Elsie took a shuddering breath, her hands never leaving his chest. "Come to me after moonrise," she gasped. "Come to me, Charles."

They shared another deep kiss. He was not at all sure he would be able to break away again. But he did. "I will come to you," he murmured against her hair. He kissed her fingers once more before letting go, running out of the entrance and down the path.

She smiled, walking to the pillar where they had first met and picking up her cloak. _I am married, and my husband will be in my arms soon._

Pulling the cloak around her shoulders, she glanced up at the twinkling stars. She tried to frown at the Little Bear, but her heart was too joyful for anger. She put a finger to her lips, raising an eyebrow. "Say nothing and I'll be your friend forever," she said.

The stars waved back.

* * *

Fires were lit along the river, and she could hear music and singing in the village. Another time, she would have liked to go and celebrate with her friends.

But on that Midsummer Night, no one was in her heart or mind except for her husband. Charles.

She needed him, ached for him.

Oh, how she ached for him.

Her hut was dark and quiet when she arrived. She pulled the door all the way open and removed the coverings from the windows. The moon was rising, and its white light poured into her home. Flickering shadows of the leaves from the branches danced on the floor where she slept.

 _There will be little sleep tonight._

Warmth spread through her body. She set aside the cloak, laying the sheepskin down.

The scent of roses hung in the air as she poured wine into two cups.

* * *

He had little memory of the journey home.

Stowell was not happy to watch the flocks all night, but agreed once Charles promised to pay him and Luke more.

A little fire burned low inside the hut, showing Alfred and Andrew asleep. He pulled aside the blanket and fondly kissed Daisy as she snored.

He woke Alfred going back out, asking where James was.

"In the village," the apprentice mumbled, half-asleep. Charles let him rest. Any other time, he would have set out and dragged back the errant young man by his ear.

But not that Midsummer Night.

Elsie, his woman, his wife, was waiting.

And he would not keep waiting her any longer.

* * *

Standing several steps in front of her open door, she held out a cup. He took it, and drank the rich wine slowly. She did the same, her eyes watching him over the brim.

Draining his cup, he handed it back to her. She set it with her own on a little table next to the doorway.

He could not keep his eyes off her. Every movement was graceful. The moonlight was so bright he could see the reddish tints in her hair, the curve of her hips.

She rose up on her toes and kissed him, feeling his soft lip between hers. He moaned.

He backed her against the doorway. He was flush against her, his heart hammering wildly. Her fingers ran through his hair, teasing his curls. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to a spot below her left ear.

The feel of his body against hers was intoxicating.

"Charles…" Elsie breathed. It was natural for her to arch against him, for him to pull her hip around his, for them to move together in a dance that both mortals and the gods knew well.

When she kissed him, he told himself just one more. One more kiss, one more touch. Before picking her up in his arms and taking her inside. But the way she said his name pushed him past his own restraint.

He wanted to hear her say his name like that again.

No.

He wanted to lay her down and love her until the moon had flown across the sky and the dawn come again. Elsie sighed, her lips nibbling his ear. He groaned into her neck, hunger for her overwhelming him.

 _Eala, Beautiful Lady, guide me. Restrain my passion so that she finds her pleasure first._

She cried out, her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back slightly. "Sorry," she gasped, hoping he was not hurt by her movement. It seemed he was not. His hands did not leave her hips. Elsie closed her eyes, a wild storm of desire raging inside her.

 _Even now, he thinks of me first. No lover has ever been so attentive._

She slid her hands from his shoulders, down his arms, and took his hands in hers.

"Come in," she breathed, stepping backwards across the threshold. He followed her inside, turning only to close the door.

It was darker than he expected; no fire burned. Yet he could clearly see the sheepskin on the floor. She had turned, and faced away from him. He stood right against her, her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his mouth against her neck. Her bare shoulder.

He was everywhere; his hot mouth on the nape of her neck, his hands moving over her belly, down her legs, up over her breasts.

Sinking onto her knees, she ran her hands behind her into his hair. He had dropped onto the sheepskin with her. She turned her head to meet him in a searing kiss. Tasting him, the wine on his tongue. He trailed kisses from her mouth down the side of her face to her neck once more.

Her skin tasted like the salt of the sea, like sweet honey.

"Come to me," she moaned. Never had she felt such tenderness, such devotion. Such pleasure. It brought tears to her eyes.

Moving from where he knelt behind her, he stood up. He loosened the belt around his tunic. The white garment fell and he bundled it together before dropping it on the floor. His wife did the same, her tunic sliding down her body. He watched her in awe.

No firelight marred her exquisite beauty. From the crown of her head with its long red hair to her bare feet, she was the most perfect being he had ever seen.

 _And she is mine. My wife._

Elsie stood before him, her hand hovering above his bare chest. He caught it and pressed it against his heart.

"Do you know," she whispered, the flush on her skin visible even in the moonlight, "how beautiful you are to me?" Her fingers played in the hair on his chest before she reached up and touched his face.

"Not nearly as lovely as you," he whispered.

They laid down, skin against skin, kissing, touching, loving. The first time their bodies joined she wept. She kissed his shoulder, left open-mouthed kisses against his chest.

 _I thought I was whole._

 _Now I am._

She sang as he gave her pleasure, pressing her fingers into his back, willing him closer. He shuddered and cried out. After they caught their breath, they kissed deeply, their hands in each other's hair.

Whispering her name, he pulled her up to sit, their bodies entangled. She was wrapped in his arms. He sighed, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he asked, ghosting his lips on her neck. She laughed quietly, her head against his. Desire coursed through her blood.

"Yes," she whispered, tracing a line down his back. "Though I am not in the least tired."

She felt his smile against her neck. "Nor I. We _should_ be, awake since before dawn-"

"And you in the competition! And then to watch the flock at sunrise!" She shook her head. "I would usually praise you for your generosity to the apprentices, but right now I rather resent it!"

"Mmmm," he murmured, his tongue at the hollow of her throat. She shivered in delight. "It would seem I need to better show you the qualities of a generous man."

He lavished attention on her until it was abundantly clear she had learned her lesson. She then returned the favor.

Charles lay gasping, languid as Elsie rested her head on his chest, her hand trailing across his belly. "That…that was…was…" he smiled, looking down at her. "Eala must _love_ me!"

A brilliant smile split her face. "I am certain she does," the sultry tone of her voice and her wandering hands making him moan.

They talked long into the night, in between kisses and the eternal dance of love. Eventually, both were exhausted.

"We have to go to the temple," she mumbled, her voice hoarse. "Soon. To-to tell Violet and Isobel and-" she shuddered through a yawn. "-to burn incense."

"We will," he mumbled, pulling her closer against his chest. "And we have to tell Daisy."

"Do you want to tell her alone?"

"No," he said into her hair. "I think we should tell her together." Privately, he was glad the news would have to be sent to Thomas via a message.

"And should we expect Thomas to burn my house down?"

"He'd better not," Charles growled. "No, I think he will accept it. He knew I planned to offer myself to you. It should not be a great surprise."

Elsie turned and touched his face, her thumb on his lip. "We should ask him to visit when he can. And invite Edward as well. _That_ should improve his temper a little."

He kissed her nose, nodding. "A wise wife, a beautiful woman, a…generous lover," he wagged his eyebrows at her, which earned him a slap on his thigh.

"You had best behave, Master Shepherd," she stifled another yawn, "or I will _not_ move into your home."

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked. "I was thinking of it more for Daisy's sake."

"Of course I don't mind," she pulled his hands up onto her belly. "It makes sense for me to go there. And," she brightened as a thought came to her, "the apprentices can live here, in this place. Our flocks are in between, and I am sure those young men would like having a place to themselves."

"Yes, they would," he murmured, fatigue finally overcoming him. "Good night, Elsie. I have to sleep for a little while. I promised Stowell I would be there at dawn."

Elsie pulled a blanket over both of them. "Good night, Charles." She kissed him once more before resting her back against him.

What was done, was done. A part of her wondered what her father would say, what Victor would do. But in the arms of her sleeping husband, her heart more at peace than she had ever known, she could not bring herself to worry.

"You make me so happy," he murmured quietly, but in a clear voice. Her eyes fluttered open. _He thinks I am asleep._ "I never want you to leave my arms."

She continued breathing at a steady pace. It was not long until he did succumb to sleep. She watched the moonlight dance on the floor.

"I never want to leave you," she whispered. "You are my heart." A single tear ran down her face.

By the time it had dropped from her chin she was asleep.


	19. Married

He woke from the most restful sleep, if not the longest, he could remember. By the dim light that came through the window, he knew it was close to dawn.

The woman in his arms was still deep in slumber, the red and russet strands of her hair spread around her face.

 _Elsie._

 _My wife._

 _My…_ _wife_ _._

A sleepy smile spread over Charles's face. He gently pulled her closer to him. She did not stir.

Breathing in, he relished the scent of her body – of roses, sunshine on a summer day, a breath of air from the sea. Sleep overcame him once more.

The sound of birds outside brought him to the waking world once again. This time, sunlight clearly danced on the floor.

 _Now I really do have to get up._

But the feel of Elsie beneath his hands begged for him to stay. Playing for time, he drew her hair over her shoulder and kissed the bare skin slowly. There was still a ruddy glow to her, as if a beaming light shone within.

She breathed deep. Awake at last. " _Oh_ ," she sighed, as he continued his devoted attention to her, moving to her neck, the spot beneath her ear. "Mmmm," she murmured, before turning to face him. Her eyes were the same color as the night before, the midnight blue. Darker. Slowly, she ran her hands through his curls, massaging his head. He closed his eyes at the pleasurable sensation.

Moving slowly, her naked body brushed against his. Whatever parts of him that had not been fully awake sprang to life.

Drawing his face to hers, she gave him a deep kiss.

"Els-" he tried to protest as she kissed his cheek, his jaw, the hollow of his throat. His chest. He let out a gasp mixed with a groan. "Elsie, I…we…I have to go watch the flocks. It's long past dawn. Stowell-"

"Can wait," she murmured, her warm breath against his breastbone. Her hands were wandering lower again.

She knew he had to go. That the day would not wait for them.

But she could not, would not, stop.

From his reaction, neither could he. With a playful growl, he rolled onto her.

 _She is so small beneath me._

Her strong legs wrapped around his torso and her seductive smile showed him that she was not hurt. Their kisses quickly became frantic, the rhythm of their lovemaking all-consuming. He roared, wondering afterward where _that_ sound had come from.

Charles gasped, panting with exertion. "Sorry," he mumbled, pressing a long kiss to his wife's red lips.

"For what?" she grazed her fingers down his back.

"I…I should have thought more about you than me," he said. "The moment carried me away."

Elsie felt tears prick her eyes. _Even now he thinks of me._ She did not want him to think she was hurt or upset, because she was the farthest thing from either. To cover her emotion, she traced his face, thumbed the stubble on his chin. "Oh, you _certainly_ thought about me," she teased. "Do you not think I enjoyed that as much as you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I think you could have enjoyed it _more_."

She was in no position to protest, because he insisted on making sure her satisfaction was complete. He rolled over so that she was looking down at him.

In the light of day, he could see her face, every contour of her body. The way she arched her back, her hands on his chest.

He knew he would never tire of hearing Elsie cry out his name.

They lay tangled with her sprawled on his chest. "Husband," she took a ragged breath, "you never have to feel as though I need more…but I will never stop you when you do." He laughed, the vibration of his body tickling her. They held each other without speaking.

The quiet was broken when his belly gave a tremendous rumble. She giggled, then sat up with a sigh, looking down at him fondly, tousling his hair.

"Well, now we _do_ need to get up."

He stretched, feeling several sore muscles. It was impossible to tell if some of them were due to the competition or the activity during the night.

Or that morning.

He got up to dress, but found himself staring at Elsie. She donned her tunic and tied her belt before running her hands through her hair.

 _I did not think it was possible that she could be even more beautiful than she already was._

She raised an eyebrow, having caught him looking. " _I_ would not mind if you walked around like that, but I am sure the apprentices would rather you wear clothes!"

"More important," he reluctantly picked up his tunic, "I want to talk to Daisy. Today." He slipped on the familiar garb while she whirled about looking for food.

Having been gone the day before, there was only one small loaf of bread. Thankfully she also found several figs.

"There isn't much," she said, biting her lip. "But take this. I'm sorry I did not get up in time to make you bread-"

He cut her off with a lingering kiss. "It is enough." Pulling her chin up with his finger, he smiled. "You should go back to sleep. I know you're tired."

"So are you," she fingered the silver band on his arm.

"It will not be my first time watching the flock on little sleep," he reminded her, taking the bundle of food.

They kissed until he finally sighed. Leaving her with one final embrace, he walked out to the bright morning.

He woke Andrew and sent him to watch Elsie's flock. Stowell was, as he expected, in a foul temper. It eased somewhat when Charles paid him and Luke handsomely. The two left, and the shepherd took his place on the side of the hill.

Everything looked the same as it had two days before, but he could not stop smiling, despite his weariness.

* * *

After a scanty meal, Elsie kneaded some dough and made a fire, putting the bread in the hot coals to bake. The day was already warm. She pulled strands of hair away from her face, and laid back down. A slight breeze came through the window.

 _I am a wife now. The last thing I want is for Charles to be hungry._

A laugh bubbled out of her mouth, and she covered it with her hand. It had not been hunger for food that woke her earlier in the morning. She pressed her hands to her belly, sliding them down.

His touch aroused her like nothing had ever done before. The mere thought of it made her sigh with longing.

 _This must be how mortals feel. Having to wait, not simply making love morning, noon and night._

The bread was not terribly burnt when it was done. She set it aside to cool before succumbing to sleep for a while.

When she woke again, the sun had passed its peak. Stepping outside a moment, she could almost see the heat shimmering in the air.

Alfred walked up the hill toward the meadow. He waved at her, and she returned it. He cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling something, but she could not make out the words. Closing the door to her hut, she hurried across the pasture to the tall apprentice.

"What is it?" she asked, holding her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun.

"Has Daisy come to see you today?" His face was red from the heat. That was what she thought, at least until he clutched his crook and looked away.

 _Do I look different?_

"No," she said, confused. "Why?"

"She gave me this to give to you," he said, still not looking directly at her, holding out a small scroll. "I thought maybe she had gone to see you earlier anyway, to tell you what Sybil bought for you."

"What _Sybil_ bought me?"

"You'd better come and see," Alfred said. "When the master sent Andy to watch your flock, that's when they saw it." They made their way to the top of the hill into the meadow. Andy saw them coming, and ran over to them.

"She's a dream!" he said, grinning. "With her and Frea, we hardly need to watch the sheep at all!"

Elsie looked across the meadow toward the flock. Her sheepdog was calmly sitting downwind in the shade of the ash tree. Next to her was another dog. Elsie's mouth fell open.

She did not see Andy's eyes widen, or him staring at her. Alfred pinched him.

"A _dog?_ " She made her way to the shade, the two lads behind her. Elsie bent over, holding out her hand to the newer animal. She was slightly smaller than Frea, but with the same white and dark-blue coat. She went over immediately and licked Elsie's hand.

"Hello dear one," Elsie murmured, petting her. The dog was a sweet-tempered one, but she could not think why Sybil would have gone to the trouble of getting her a dog when she already had one. Then she remembered the scroll. Quickly, she unrolled it.

 _Dearest Mother,_

 _I made Daisy promise not to read this, and I trust that no one has seen it except for you. Frea is a dear friend of mine. I sent her to help you after you left home. After seeing you recently and considering the possible dangers you may face from mortal men, I took the liberty of sending Remme to you also. She is Frea's daughter, and is quite devoted to me. I am sure she will love you!_

 _The court will remain near Downton for the summer, so I should be able to see you again soon. Tom said he will visit you when he can._

 _Perhaps the next time I see you all will be settled with Charles. He adores you, and Daisy is very fond of you. She is, as you know, very sweet! I was very glad to meet her._

 _I will do my best to help Thomas. He has a good heart, but he has wounds that will not be easily healed._

 _Love,_

 _Sybil_

Tears filled Elsie's eyes. She had long thought there was more to Frea than her being a simple sheepdog, but had not been sure that the dog had a connection to her daughter. Now she knew. Sybil's concern for her touched her deeply.

It seemed almost incredible that she had seen her beloved child only the day before, and she and Charles were already married.

 _That_ _will_ _surprise her, I think._

She felt a twinge in her heart, watching Frea nuzzle Remme. _I cannot tell Charles about Sybil, either. Or tell Daisy she has a sister. There would be too many questions that I cannot answer._

"What did Sybil say?" Alfred's voice brought her back to the present.

She blinked and cleared her throat. "The dog's name is Remme," she said, smiling. "She is Frea's daughter, which is probably why she is a natural at watching the flock."

"I-I only had to teach her the commands once," Andy stuttered, his face still red. "She learned them straightaway. I thought the master would be angry, what with a new dog and Jimmy not coming in until after daybreak, but even after all that he was still smiling!"

Elsie fought to keep her face blank. _Yes, after last night he should be._

"I thought for sure the master would send him home," Alfred yawned. "But he only told him to not be late ever again."

"Well," she raised her eyebrows, "it seems Jimmy was spared his due punishment. I hope he is grateful."

"Oh, he is," Alfred insisted. "Having to watch the master's flocks until moonrise is a small price to pay."

She ended up sending both of them back to Charles's house, seeing that they were still tired from the Midsummer festivities. _She_ was tired. But she wanted to spend time with the dogs, to reflect on the past day, and to think about the future.

Re-reading Sybil's letter, she remembered the advice Martha had given her. It was not that she worried about men more than divine retribution, but she knew that some men could be unpredictable in their behavior towards women.

Remme, she decided, would stay with her as a guard dog while Frea would continue watching the flock. She was sure Charles would not mind. Especially if she told him the extra protection was for Daisy's sake as well.

The girl would soon be a woman.

Elsie was called from her thoughts when she saw Daisy herself making her way across the meadow. She got up and gave the girl a hug.

"Alfred said you might be looking for me," she said as they sat under the ash tree. "I was asleep until noon, so maybe it was better you did not visit earlier."

 _Especially_ _not this morning._

"I meant to see you this morning, to give you the letter from Sybil," Daisy said as she ran her hand through the grass. She blushed, her dimples showing. "She told me yesterday she sent Remme to you. A friend of hers – Tom? – brought her here. I didn't come because when I woke up I talked to Papa. He wouldn't tell me _anything_ about what you said yesterday. But from the look on your face, I think I can guess!"

"What _do_ I look like?" Elsie asked, trying not to blush herself.

Daisy laughed. "Like the sun's waiting to burst out from your insides," she leaned closer. "It's no wonder the boys have to look away! Papa asked you to marry him, and you said _yes_ , didn't you?"

Elsie quickly weighed the balance of telling her the truth versus waiting until later. _I will not tell her everything just now._

"Yes," she admitted. Before she could say anything else, Daisy squealed and leaped to her feet. She nearly tackled Elsie, hugging her.

"I'm so happy for Papa! And for you!" she said into Elsie's ear. "Tell me what he said! Was he _nervous?_ What-"

Laughing, Elsie pushed her shoulders gently back. "Thank you, but I have said _quite_ enough. Where is your father? I know he wanted to talk with you."

"Oh, he's sleeping," the girl stood up straight. "He said we would talk after he woke up. But you can tell me everything he said!"

Elsie shook her head, grinning. "I will not! You will have to wait to hear it all from him. I hope he isn't angry with me for telling you my answer!" She knew Charles would not be. But she knew he would want to tell his daughter the news of their marriage himself.

" _Please_ , Elsie," Daisy begged, grabbing her hand. "Can't you tell me what he said? He would never give me all the details!"

Squeezing her hand, Elsie was firm. " _No_ , we will simply have to wait for him. But in the meantime you can tell me what you thought of Sybil, and your day yesterday."

Daisy tried to continue arguing, but eventually gave up. They sat and talked of Midsummer, the feast and the competition.

She and Sybil had gone with Ivy and several of the others to dance in the evening before going home. Elsie was delighted to hear Thomas had joined them for a short time.

"He was not very happy with Papa," Daisy confessed, "but once Edward turned up again he perked up. Tell me truthfully – are you disappointed Papa lost?" Elsie ran a hand through her hair, glancing at the calm flock.

"Of course, but he did his best. Edward should be proud!" she smiled. "If Charles had to lose, I would much prefer him to lose to someone like that, rather than the king. It would have been awful to see your father have to fight a boxer!"

Daisy gave her a soft smile. "I like hearing you say Papa's name."

Feeling her face grow warm, Elsie plucked at the grass. "Now you _are_ making me blush." Her heart sped up thinking of how many times she had said his name over the last day; mostly during the heat of passion.

"Mother never said his name like that," Daisy said under her breath. "At least not that I can remember."

"How did she say his name?" Elsie asked quietly, curious. Daisy started, as if realizing she was there.

 _I should not have asked. It is not my place to know that._

"Oh," Daisy bit her lip. "She loved him. I know she did. And he loved her, of course. But-" her face was pink. "when _you_ say Papa's name it's like what your heart is heard in your voice. Like the whisper of the wind."

She had never doubted her mother's love for her father, or his for her. It was like knowing Mother loved her children. Of _course_ she did. But the way Elsie talked, and looked at her father, she made it look like it was a choice. Not an obligation.

The shepherdess did not _have_ to love her father. But she did.

If Thomas could see that, maybe he would not be so angry.

"I know you would do anything for him," she said. "That's why I'm so happy for him. I know he would do the same for you."

A lump formed in Elsie's throat. "I _would_ do anything for him," she murmured. _I already have._ "He means so very much to me." She cleared her throat. "Daisy, you mean a great deal to me. As does Thomas. Not just because I care for your father." She smiled gently, a tear hovering at the corner of her eye. "For your own sake, not just for his. I will never take your mother's place, and I know you would never want that. But I want you to know I care for you and your brother just as much as I care for Charles." Her eyes sparkled.

It was not until she said it that she knew she meant it.

 _My heart was given to Charles. But it is not only his._

 _I would do anything for Daisy. And for Thomas._

 _Even if he never knows it._

The girl came over to sit right next to her. "Do you really?" she whispered, her eyes big. She laid her head on Elsie's shoulder. "I…I hoped you would."

Part of her would always miss Mother. But having Elsie marry her father would mean someone else would care for her and Thomas.

Elsie put her arms around her. "Yes, I really mean that," she whispered, giving Daisy a light kiss on her forehead. For a long time neither one said anything. Daisy sniffed once, and Elsie broke the embrace only to wipe her eyes.

"You will have a son and daughter," Daisy reached out her hand as Remme trotted over to them. She pulled the dog closer. She grinned. "You have never had that before!"

"No," Elsie agreed, her eyes glistening. _Not a mortal daughter._ _Definitely not a son._

"Sybil said she knew you when you lived in Merton," Daisy rubbed Remme's back, getting her to lie down in the shade. "She said you were the closest thing to a mother she has ever had."

Not for the first time Elsie felt silently thankful to Sybil. _She always strikes the perfect balance._ "She is," her voice was wobbly. "I am glad you were able to spend some time with her yesterday."

They talked more of Midsummer. Eventually Daisy laid down with her head in Elsie's lap. The shepherdess sat with her back against the ash tree, nodding in the afternoon warmth.

Charles found them both asleep. He knew he would remember the picture of his two girls beneath the ash tree forever. It brought tears to his eyes.

Carrying food and wine, he set out a meal before going to touch Elsie's shoulder. With Daisy so close, he did not dare kiss his wife.

As much as he wanted to.

"I knew you were tired," he said, crouched down next to them. Elsie blinked heavily, slowly waking up. "You should have sent for Alfred, gotten him to watch the flock." He glanced at the sheep and the two dogs, and smiled. "It was well _someone_ was watching. But I can hardly blame you for being tired."

A lazy smile spread across Elsie's face. "Yes, it was not _all_ my fault." She glanced down at Daisy. "She knows I agreed to marry you. I could not keep from telling her anything!"

Charles laughed. "I expected her to guess at least part of it. She is quite clever."

"She's _your_ daughter, of course she's clever."

"She is _our_ daughter," he said gently, pulling her hair over her shoulder. "Mine by blood, yours by love."

"Charles," she whispered, her chin trembling. "Stop, you will make me cry. _Again_."

He brushed his lips on her forehead. "We can't have that."

* * *

They ate a hearty meal under the bright sun as it slowly sank west. When they finished, Daisy gave her father a _Look_.

" _Now_ will you tell me more? Elsie refused to tell me anything, other than she said yes," she raised her eyebrows.

Elsie raised her own eyebrows.

 _Now it is_ _your_ _turn._

"Ah," Charles dropped his hands onto his lap. His belly churned. Now that the moment had come he suddenly wondered what Daisy's reaction would be. "Well. Yesterday evening, I offered myself to Elsie-"

"Were you nervous?" his daughter grinned.

"Yes," he replied, thinking that the sensation was growing stronger by the moment. "She accepted me, and of course I was thrilled!"

He stopped short. He had no desire to tell Daisy of their conversation – of Elsie's betrothal, about her father, of their shared grief.

"And then," Elsie said quietly, "your father asked if I would be willing to make vows immediately."

Daisy gasped, staring at Charles.

"Elsie agreed," he said, not looking away. "So we made our vows at the shrine last night."

"You-you're _married?_ " Daisy squeaked. She put her hands up to her face, her mouth hanging open.

She burst into tears.

Charles and Elsie shared an uneasy glance.

"Daisy?" Charles asked, putting his arm around her. His heart sank. "I-I know it was sudden. Neither of us planned it that way. It-it just happened." He wondered if she was angry for them being alone. For not including her and Thomas.

With increasing anxiety, Elsie watched Charles try to comfort Daisy. _Maybe this was a mistake._

 _Maybe she will despise him, me, us._

 _Have I lost the chance to be close to her and Thomas from the beginning?_

Daisy hiccupped, wiping her face with her hand. "I-I don't know why I'm crying," she managed to gasp out. "I-I think it's the most romantic thing I have ever heard!"

The two adults looked at each other again, this time in incredulity.

"You-you are _happy_ with this?" Charles asked, rubbing her back. "Are you sure?" She smiled through her blotchy face.

" _Yes_ ," she said. "Papa, I knew you wanted to marry Elsie. But the way _you_ are, you might have put it off for years! Ivy and I talked about you taking vows alone, but I never thought you would actually _do_ that!"

Elsie felt her heart relax. A bright smile shone on her face. "You were saying earlier, Charles," she muttered under her breath, "how clever your daughter is?"

* * *

Andrew took over the watch at sunset. He insisted that he could watch into the night. Charles felt rather uncomfortable about the apprentice seemingly knowing what was on his mind. Alfred would take over for Jimmy after moonrise.

Daisy would not hear of Charles sleeping at their house. Elsie had to squeeze his arm to keep him from saying anything in front of her.

"She doesn't _know_ ," she reassured him as they walked back to her home, their arms around each other. "Not _all_ the aspects, anyway." Charles groaned.

"Please," he begged, "I do not want to think about my daughter knowing about-about _that_! She-I know she is nearly a woman, but she will always be my little girl."

"Of course she will," Elsie said, sliding her hand along his back. "But she will have to be told sooner rather than later." It suddenly occurred to her that as Daisy's stepmother, _she_ would have to have that conversation with the girl. The same thought hit her husband at the same time.

He laughed out loud. "Is my lovely wife daunted by the prospect? I should not laugh," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I am _still_ getting over the awkwardness of the conversation with Thomas, and that was four summers ago!"

"Did you tell him anything different?" Elsie asked him. "You knew he loved boys rather than girls."

Charles blushed. "It was not _as_ different as it could have been. I-I mostly tried to tell him that it was natural for him to-to feel those things. And to respect himself, and anyone he-" He sputtered, unable to continue.

Elsie laughed, gently rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh dear. It _must_ have been a difficult talk." _Especially,_ she thought, _considering Thomas._

"It isn't that," Charles swallowed, tasting the wine from their meal. They climbed the hill to the hut beneath the oak tree. "He may be eighteen now, but he will always be my little boy, you see."

The softness in his voice touched her heart.

"And you will always love him."

He looked down at her outside the door. "Yes," he whispered, tracing her face. "As I will always love Daisy."

 _And you._

Bending down, he pressed his lips against hers. The movement made her sigh. Desire, which she had set aside since that morning, welled up inside her like a gushing spring. She bunched his tunic in her hands, pulling him closer.

"Touch me," she breathed. There really was no need for words; his hands were well south of her waist. When her knees gave out at the feel of his fingers searching for her secret place, he stopped.

Only to pick her up and carry her inside.

She ran her hand up his neck into his hair, inhaling the scent of him. Kissing his face, his neck.

"I wanted this," she whispered as they entered the hut. "When you carried me to Richard's that first day. It was all I could do to keep from touching you."

He set her down in the dark room. Their mouths hungry for each other, their hands searching, pressing.

"Do you know," he murmured, his lips leaving hers to mark her neck, "on that day I thought I could never want a woman more than I wanted you. But I want you more _now_ than I did yesterday. How is that possible?"

His open-mouthed kisses left her breathless. She clung to him if only to keep her balance. With extreme reluctance, he let go of her. She fumbled for the sheepskin, spreading it out on the floor. She then shed her clothing in record time.

"What are you doing?" she asked. In the dim light, he was searching in the dead ashes of the fire.

"Trying to light a fire," he said, not looking up. "Moonrise will not be for hours, and it is much too dark in here-"

Elsie stumbled across the floor. She gripped his wrist, keeping him from doing anything else. "We do not need light," she said. "Not now. And it is much too warm in here now, the fire will make it unbearable."

Her heart skipped several beats thinking of what could happen if there was a fire burning as they made love.

 _Too dangerous. We_ _cannot_ _risk it._

 _Not now. Not ever._

"Come to bed," she ran her hand up his arm. She felt him shiver as her breasts pressed into his back. He swallowed.

"But I w-want to s- _see_ you," Charles stuttered between his teeth. _Does she have any idea how irresistible she is right now?_

Elsie suppressed a moan. _His restraint is beyond anything._

" _Please_ ," she begged. Her thoughts were rapidly being consumed by her ardor; the nonexistent fire meant less than the present moment.

Not that she forgot about the danger. It would be there as long as she and Charles were together.

With a groan, he turned. He yanked her hand from his shoulder, almost tearing his tunic in the same motion.

Their adoration was mutual. Her holding him closer, whispering, sighing, moaning. His warm breath on her soft skin, his tender kisses. Her fingers tugging, pulling his hair. The flick of his tongue. Her passion, his control.

They taught each other. Learned from each other. Laughed, cried, reveled in every aspect in each other. She found scars below his ribcage. From when he went to war as a young man.

He found a spot no lover had ever reached. Her pleasure was only hindered by the effort it took her to keep from resuming divine form immediately.

It was the first time she perceived that joy could bring about that same result as well as bodily danger. Her mortal form, on the other hand, felt an immense fulfillment that she had not experienced before.

She lay awake long after sleep had claimed him.

 _Charles._

 _My husband, my man._


	20. Letters

**A/N: I am truly sorry for once again delivering a mammoth chapter. They just have to say what they want to say.**

 **Another chapter with Thomas and company.**

* * *

The king's hall sat high on a hill above the river. Unlike the palace, the courtyard was not big enough for the servants to gather when they were free. Two of the stable boys had found a spot partway down the hill that was partially secluded from the walls above. Servants met there often, usually in the evening.

Two days after Midsummer, a group of them sat around a fire in their chosen place, the stars gleaming above them.

"Do you think they look bigger?" Anna asked, her eyes on the sky.

"What? The stars?" Edward approached them and sat down. He groaned slightly, stretching out his long legs. "I heard several of the guards talking about that very thing when I came out through the gate." He looked up. "I don't know. Maybe. They are definitely… _glimmering_ more. At least that's what they look like to me."

Sarah snorted from the other side of the fire. "You're both daft. They look the same." Edward tapped Thomas on the shoulder.

"What do you think?"

Thomas tore his gaze away from the flames, frowning slightly. "They do look bigger. Or something," he muttered. He turned back to the fire. "But they couldn't be bigger. That's impossible."

"I know," Anna said. A slight smile curved at the corner of her lips. "Lady Mary was talking to Her Ladyship before their evening meal. She said she was going to ask her grandmother about it. Just in case the gods are trying to tell us something."

"If that is the case, it would be better if they left us alone," Sarah said, hemming a shawl. "If the gods _are_ up to something, we'd better hope they don't bother with us mortals."

Anna nudged Sybil, who was sitting next to her. The dark-haired young woman flinched. Anna giggled. "You were far away. Conversing with the stars?"

Sybil smiled, still distracted. "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

"Just like earlier today," Sarah said, a smirk playing on her lips. "Miss-Head-In-The-Clouds there had to be brought back down to earth twice by Her Ladyship. She was none too pleased with your woolgathering." She leaned forward. "So what's got your attention, Sybil? Meet a man in the village?"

"Mind your own business," Anna frowned at the older woman.

Putting a hand on Anna's arm, Sybil faced Sarah. "No, I didn't meet a man," her voice and expression were utterly calm. "I just…have a lot on my mind. And I would rather keep it that way, if it's all the same to you."

"Well, if you keep being dreamy while you're supposed to be serving Her Ladyship, you won't last long," Sarah said. It was clear that if that happened she would be satisfied with the result. "Some aren't meant for service, I suppose."

"Sybil is fine," Thomas said, rousing himself. "She'll shake off the fog and be back in the queen's good graces by breakfast." At one time, he had gotten on well with Sarah. But that was before Edward. He tired of the woman's ill-tempered behavior.

And he did not like her chastising Sybil.

He did wonder what had changed the young woman's temperament. She was still her same cheerful self, but more than once since they had returned Midsummer Night he had caught her staring off into space.

"Thank you, Thomas," Sybil gave him a warm smile. "I only want to do my best. Maybe I just need to think about something else. Edward, what was that merry tune we heard during the dances? I can remember the words to the round, just not how it went."

Edward began to hum. Anna and another one of the servant girls, Madge, joined in. Sybil and Edward blended their voices in the round.

Thomas hummed as they sang.

His own thoughts had been occupied, though he had managed to keep from being caught out. He wondered what Elsie had said to his father's proposal.

 _No doubt they are engaged by now. I wish I had had more time to talk to Daisy._

A guard, Roland, approached the group, walking down the hill. He joined in singing, but did not sit down. When they had finished, he held up several scrolls in his hands.

"Messages arrived a short while ago," he said, grinning. "Most of them from Downton." He handed Madge and Sarah their letters. From the size of them, they were not long. He handed Anna a large one. She took it, reading her name. Getting to her feet, she ran up the hill. There was a brilliant smile on her face.

Thomas and Edward raised their eyebrows at each other.

"Well, she's off in a hurry. I wonder what _that_ is all about," Sarah said with interest.

"None of your concern," Sybil said cheerfully before following Anna.

Thomas leaned over and whispered in Edward's ear. "If that is _not_ from Master John, then I'm a giraffe." Edward stifled a laugh. Roland tapped Thomas on the shoulder with a scroll.

"This one is for you."

Thomas nodded his thanks and took it. It was a small one, and the handwriting was not familiar. He unrolled it and leaned closer to the fire to read it.

 _Dear Thomas,_

 _Thank you again for showing me the most captivating part of the kingdom. My master will be well pleased. Though my journey home requires a sea voyage, I will not soon forget what I saw, or your help._

 _Thank you also for showing me some of the lesser-known paths in Downton. It is a beautiful village, and I was very happy to spend Midsummer there. I had a splendid time!_

 _Alexander_

Thomas felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He had tried to brush aside the lingering feelings of unease the stranger had stirred. He had told himself he was exaggerating. But somehow seeing words on the page brought them all back.

"Who wrote you?" Edward asked. His face grew serious when he saw Thomas's expression.

"Roland," Thomas said to the young guard, his mouth dry, "where did this message arrive from? Downton?" Roland looked up from his chat with Madge.

"That one? Um, no," he said, stroking his short beard. "There was a caravan from Loxleigh that delivered it late this morning."

Loxleigh. East. _A sea voyage, he said._

 _He is on his way to the coast._

He wished the knowledge made him feel better.

Wordlessly, he got up and walked up the hill to the outer gate. Edward followed him into the small courtyard where guards and dogs lingered, then into the tiny room they shared with two other lads. David and Edgar were already snoring on their pallets. Edward grabbed the tiny oil lamp and set it on the floor between him and Thomas.

"What is going on?" he whispered. Thomas quickly whispered what had happened at Midsummer. He fumbled in the corner, digging into a shallow hole. He handed the pouch to Edward.

His friend frowned. "He gave you all this? Just for showing him Downton, and Elsie? You had better put it back in your hiding place, and keep it there. That is more gold than the captain of the guard will get at the end of the summer," he whispered, handing it back to Thomas. "You say Alexander seemed nice, but you didn't trust him?"

"No," Thomas whispered. "He-I don't know, the way he talked about women, the things he said…it's just a feeling."

"You had a feeling about Elsie, too," Edward reminded him. "That she was dangerous. Well, after seeing her myself, the only danger _she_ poses is that she makes me take a second look at women."

Thomas knew he was only joking, but he was in no mood for it. "Here," he handed Edward the scroll. "Read this." He held up the oil lamp for light.

"'The most captivating part of the kingdom,'" Edward whispered, squinting. "Well, she _is_ that. But what does he mean, his master 'will be well pleased'? Alex can hardly do Elsie justice describing her to someone who has never seen her."

"I know," Thomas agreed. "I have no idea what he means. Only that I think he will return here."

He did not trust Alex, not at all. He wished he had never agreed to help the man. If Alex did return to Downton, what if he or his master tried to hurt Elsie, or take her away?

Then Father would get hurt.

 _And_ _ **that**_ _is why she is dangerous. Not her by herself, but how she affects others._

Was it, he wondered, wrong to hope the Sea-God sank Alex's ship?

Edward seemed to read his mind. "He may not return. You don't know for sure."

"I wish I did know," he murmured. "Knew what his business was." They sat quietly for a moment before Thomas returned the pouch of gold to his hiding place. Edward hung up the oil lamp, then climbed onto his pallet.

Thomas lay down across from him. The room had a wall that was along the outside. Through the tiny window, he could see a few of the glimmering stars, twinkling as if they watched the earth below.

* * *

Anna was long asleep, no doubt dreaming of her dark-haired blacksmith. The soft smile on her face warmed Sybil's heart.

She looked out again at the night sky. What, _what_ , were the stars saying? If she were in divine form, it would all be clear. Or clear _er_ , at least. It did not seem bad at any rate. Just unusual.

She could not shake the feeling that it had something to do with her mother.

 _Thank goodness Remme and Frea are with her. They can see things we can't, not while we appear to be mortals._

The dogs had been her companions for a long time. When her mother assumed mortal flesh, Sybil had sent Frea to help her. And to keep a watch. She trusted Tom and the others to keep the King and Victor in the dark, but she thought it best to send Remme as an extra guard for the goddess. If any unfriendly god, no matter how disguised, tried to get close to Elsie, the dogs would know.

And warn her immediately.

They would be very protective against unwelcome men, too.

A glow from outside the window caught her attention. A moment later, Tom hovered in midair right outside.

" _Tom!_ " she whispered, a huge smile on her face. Then a worrying thought occurred to her. "There isn't anything wrong, is there?"

"No," her husband said quickly. "But I needed to see you." He expanded the window until it was large enough for her to step onto the ledge. She let him sweep her into his arms and they descended softly to the ground. It was darker underneath the trees where he set her down.

Kissing deeply, they lost themselves in each other for a long moment. Sybil broke away, tracing her fingertips across his bare chest. "Do you want to sit down?"

He smiled that half-grin of his that she loved so well. "Don't tempt me," he growled playfully, taking her hand and kissing it. "Now is not the time. You get your seductive wiles from your mother, there's no mistaking that." He leaned forward, touching her forehead with his own. "Just between us, you are the more beautiful goddess."

"She would not like to hear you say that," Sybil whispered, teasing. "She can be rather vain at times."

They kissed again. Tom pulled away slowly. Reluctantly. "Vanity is the last thing on Elsie's mind right now," he said, his voice low. "A certain man has taken it over."

"So Charles _did_ offer himself! That's what Daisy said he was going to do," Sybil's eyes widened. "And what did she say? She said yes, didn't she?"

"Oh, she said a fair bit more than yes," Tom said, his eyes twinkling like the stars. He held his wife's hands. "They made their vows on Midsummer Night. At the shrine, under the night sky. The brilliant thing is, it was _Charles's_ idea!"

Sybil's mouth dropped open. "They-they _married!?_ " she managed to whisper. "On Midsummer? I know mortals can move quickly, but not the shepherd!"

"He adores her," Tom murmured. "She did tell him she was betrothed, and that was when he suggested they take vows immediately. To make it official, so her father could not protest against it. Not that he has any idea who her father _really_ is."

Tears pricked Sybil's eyes as she covered her mouth with her hand. "He must love her totally," she whispered. "And she…I knew she loved him, but she must be utterly captivated with him to agree to marry on the spot." She embraced her husband. "Mother was at peace when I left. Happy." Leaning back, she looked into Tom's eyes. " _Is_ she happy? At peace?"

"More than I have ever seen her," he said softly, touching her cheek. "At least, I watched with the Twins when they made their vows. I doubt she has changed since then."

"Did she catch you watching them?"

"No, I hid behind Castor. Not that she looked in depth to see who was watching." He sighed. "I left straightaway to go check on Victor again. He and his little metal helpers were still working hard. And Beryl sent me word that the King is none the wiser. For now."

"Good," Sybil rubbed his arm. "I am glad we agreed to keep watch for her. I've done what I can as well – Remme is there, along with Frea." A mischievous gleam appeared in her eye. "Tell me the truth. Did you watch her at all after they made their vows?"

Tom rolled his eyes, looking affronted. " _No!_ I promised your mother I would not watch her wedding night, and I kept my promise! Although," he said, dropping his voice, "Little Bear told me she invited Charles into her house, and he didn't leave until well after dawn the next day."

Laughing, Sybil leaned against him. "I would expect no less from her. The stars love to gossip among themselves. It's no wonder they have been chattering so, having _that_ to talk about!"

A dove cooed from a nearby branch. "And they will not give up her secret, not for anything," Tom smiled at the bird. "It is well she has so many friends."

"Yes," Sybil agreed. Despite the risk, she felt all the joy of her mother's happiness. "And now she has a husband." It seemed incredible. "A goddess and a mortal man," she murmured. "The King and others have had more than one mortal liaison, but this…"

Tom put his arm around her. "As much as she chose him, he chose her. He is what she needs, more than what he knows. More than I think _she_ knows."

Nodding, Sybil traced his back. "Oh! I only just thought-" she beamed, looking at him. "Daisy! How lovely for her! She loves Mother. Now they'll be together, too!"

"That's right," Tom said, raising his eyebrows. "And a sister for you. Are you jealous? That Elsie might like her better than you?"

His wife stuck her tongue out at him. "Never. I could never be jealous of Daisy! I think it's marvelous!"

"You do realize," Tom snorted with laughter, "that you also have a brother. Thomas."

"I am aware of that, thank you," she kissed him on the cheek, "so I will do my best to be kind to him. I doubt he will take the news well. I'm sure Charles will write to him."

"It's a good thing you are already kind to him, or else he would be suspicious of you. He does not trust Elsie, and I don't see that changing soon," Tom tucked a long hair over Sybil's ear.

"You never know," she said, giving him a squeeze, "Thomas could end up being her favorite. He _does_ have a temper. Like her."

They lingered for a while longer under the trees. Finally, Tom took her back up to her room. Sybil was only slightly disappointed, but she knew she had to have some sleep.

And it would have been way too obvious for her to be caught outside the gates in the morning naked.

* * *

The sun glinted off the river. It was after noon, and the king and his hunting party had departed hours before. A small group was on the bank upriver from the bridge over which their horses had ridden.

Young George toddled in the shallow water, his hands firmly in his mother's. He stomped his foot, and the water splashed her tunic.

Cora laughed. "Don't worry, I'm sure the mud will wash off!" Mary looked up, a rare smile on her face.

"I don't mind. You like the water, don't you, Georgie? It feels nice on a hot day like this." She leaned down and kissed his light curls.

"Well, even Miss Sourpuss is in a good mood today," muttered Sarah under her breath. Anna glared at her, but said nothing.

"She likes spending time with her son. I think it's sweet," Sybil under her breath, so Cora would not hear her. She continued holding the large shade over the queen. Edward smiled, strumming the lyre.

Thomas turned once again, scanning the hillside, the river and the bridge. The hall up above them. It was a quiet, warm day. Part of him would not have minded going with the king, but he would not complain. It was an honor to be responsible for the family.

"I think he wants another ride," Mary carried George up the bank toward Thomas. The small boy's blue eyes lit up and he reached for the dark-haired youth.

" _Another_ one?" Thomas smiled and held out his hands as Mary gently handed over George. He lifted the king's grandson onto his shoulders, making sure his little legs were on either side of his head. "All right then, here we go…"

He walked briskly, his hands supporting George's back. The little boy shrieked with glee, pulling his hair. Thomas winced.

It was one of his favorite things, playing with the king's heir. He would never know why the tiny boy had taken a shine to him, but it made him happy. Even when his hair was yanked out.

 _I wonder if I did that to Father._

 _Probably._

One of his earliest memories was of riding on his father's shoulders next to the lake. He could not have been more than three or four summers, Thomas guessed. The feeling of absolute security. Father – he called him Papa, then – would sometimes break into a trot, shake his head, whinny like a horse. Sing.

An old lullaby came to him, and he sang softly to George. They were far enough from the others that no one would hear him.

 _Lady bright, beautiful light_

 _Dance in the slumbering trees_

 _Moon and stars, all the long night_

 _Your grace the mighty ones see_

 _While mortals we_

 _Astounded be_

 _By the wondrous Lady,_

 _Eala, Immortal, Divine_

Edward would laugh, and ask why he, who doubted the gods' existence, sang a song about a goddess. Especially the Goddess of Love.

He had never been able to shake the stories and songs from childhood. The ones he heard from his father. _Well_ , he told himself, _it's a nice tune anyway._

George waved his arms, pulling his hair again. He repeated the song, turning in a circle, back towards the queen. A man, his horse nearby, bowed to her before being dismissed. Thomas approached them and lifted the squirming boy into Anna's arms. Lady Mary stood next to her mother, reading over her shoulder. Both women's faces were grave.

Mary looked up and smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "I hope he was not too heavy. He's not a baby anymore, I'm afraid."

"Not at all, milady," Thomas stood at attention, waiting for Cora. "He's a lovely boy." He wondered what bad news they had received. The queen's brow was furrowed as she read.

"He certainly likes you very much," Cora said, tearing her eyes away from the scroll. She rolled it hastily. "I think we will go in. You, Edward and Sybil are dismissed for now. George needs his rest, and we need some relief from the sun. Sarah?"

The older woman brushed by him on her way up the hill. "You must have an admirer," she whispered as she passed him. "Two scrolls in two days?" Anna followed Lady Mary, who carried her son, refusing to hand George to his nurse.

Edward held the lyre in his left hand as they walked. Thomas glanced at him. "Did I receive another scroll? Sarah said something-"

"Here," Sybil held it in her right hand. "The rider just brought them, along with the message for the queen." She held another, a tiny one in her left fist.

Thomas took it. One glance was enough to make his heart skip several beats. Father's handwriting was very distinct.

 _There can only be one reason he wrote to me so soon._

They went not to the place where they had gathered the evening before, but on the east side of the hall. The trees were closer together, providing more shade. Sybil tore her scroll open in one motion.

 _It may be you already know, for news travels fast. I am married, and blissfully happy with Charles. Daisy sends you her regards._

 _I hope to see you soon, dear one._

Thomas slowly unrolled his letter. Edward sat near him, but not so close he could read the words.

 _Dear Thomas,_

 _I write to you with the help of your sister, in the hopes that her guidance will make my words easier to bear._

 _On Midsummer Night, I offered myself to Elsie, and she accepted me. It was quickly apparent to both of us that neither she nor I wished to wait to make our vows. We thus promised ourselves at the shrine of Eala that night. It was at_ _my_ _suggestion that we did this._

 _I know it seems unlike me, but rest assured it was my idea._

 _My dear son, I hope you can find it within yourself to accept us. I know how much you miss your mother. Elsie has no desire to take her place. Only to be a friend to you, and to Daisy. She sends her greetings to you, and wishes you well._

 _My wife brings me great joy, but it would be all the greater if our family were at peace. The next time the king gives you leave, please come home and see us. Please._

 _Bring along Edward. I do not hold a grudge against him for defeating me in the competition. Invite any other friends you wish. They will all be welcome, but you most of all._

 _Daisy sends her love. You will always have it, as well as mine._

 _Papa_

Married. Father and Elsie married. _Married._

 _I should have_ _ **known**_ _he would do something like that._

 _For her._

To not even _wait_ for the courtesy of having others witness it! Not even a priestess! He didn't know what was worse – imagining Father and Elsie so consumed by lust they made their vows only to bed each other, or Father simply not caring about his children at all and brushing their feelings aside to do as he pleased. Or both.

His chest rose and fell with every breath. He suddenly felt – _had_ – to get away. Leaping to his feet, he started toward a thicket of trees, but Edward caught his shoulder.

" _No_ ," he snapped, ignoring the hurt that flickered across his mate's face. Later, he would find him. He would apologize. Tell him everything.

But he wanted to be alone.

He ran until his knees buckled beneath him. As he hit the ground, he heard a whimper, a painful cry. It was only then that he knew he was weeping.

Gone. His old life. Every vestige of Mother, of Father before he lost himself first to the invisible gods and then to the shepherdess, every memory was snuffed out.

Daisy was probably happy for them.

Alone. _You are alone now._

He read the letter again. A snarl escaped his mouth at his father's invitation. Crumpling the scroll, he hurled it away.

Why should he ever go there again? What "home" was there? He could hardly believe that Elsie had not already taken over. And Father saying Edward was welcome – he most likely said that to entice him to come back. Well, it would not work.

A part of him whispered that Mother was dead, but not forgotten. Told him to remember what Father had said during the competition. The memory of Elsie walking with his father flitted through his mind. Daisy cheering next to her behind the hedge.

Father, embracing him after they fought. _I will always be proud of you…_

He sobbed for a long time.

When he had regained some control, he sat back on his heels, wiping his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two figures approach him through the trees.

"Are you all right?" Edward, hesitating, came closer. Sybil bent over and picked up the scroll and handed it to him.

Thomas shrugged. He felt exhausted, and past caring about anything.

"Can we read this?" Edward asked. He nodded, indifferent. Edward smoothed out the crumpled material, and he and Sybil read it.

"So," Edward walked in a half circle, "So…your father got married. You knew he would eventually."

"It must have come as quite a shock," Sybil said gently.

Thomas snorted. "That's putting it mildly." Edward swallowed, looked up from the letter.

"And…you're very upset."

Rolling his eyes, Thomas sat in a clump of old leaves. "Yes, I am upset. Very clever. What was your first hint?"

"There's no need-" Sybil began, but Edward cut her off. He stared at Thomas, his eyes burning.

"What _more_ do you need from your family? Your father? He was nothing but gracious to you on Midsummer, now he asks you to come home-"

"This has nothing to do with you," Thomas seethed, knowing what Edward was thinking. "I am not going home to give them my blessing. You don't understand-"

Edward exploded in a rage. " _I_ don't understand!? You're bloody right I don't! _My_ family threw me out, my father wouldn't even _look_ at me, just told me to go! My brother Jack, happy to see the back of me! He always wanted to be the favored son! Do you know what my mother said to me when she found out I desired men!?"

"This is not the same-"

"She said," Edward gritted through his teeth, tears in his eyes, "she said it would have been better if I had never been born."

"Oh _no_ ," Sybil put her hand on his shoulder.

"And Daisy loves you, and always will! Elsie cares for you too, don't pretend she doesn't!"

Thomas held up his hands. Edward was rarely angry, and it upset him to see him so hurt. He never talked about his family. "Listen-"

"No, _you_ listen!" Edward shouted, gesturing at the letter. "Your father is asking, _begging_ you to accept them, for you to come home! Don't you know how fortunate you are? No! All you see is your own grief, your own unhappiness! If they ask you to come home, why can't you? Even if you can't accept their happiness, at least they still want you," his voice cracked. He broke down crying, leaning on Sybil.

A hollow feeling settled in Thomas's belly, and his heart ached. He looked up at the young woman comforting his dearest friend. "I suppose you agree with him," he said.

"I do," she replied without malice.

"Don't tell me," he said, his throat constricted, "that _your_ family is as horrible as his."

 _I do not need any more guilt than I already feel._

"No, they are not," she said, rubbing Edward's back. "Though you _are_ fortunate with your sister. She's very sweet. And your father has a gentle heart. Mine has a violent temper. He has never hurt me," she said quickly at his expression, "but I cannot abide his rages. My mother, thankfully, is very kind. But my grandfather is unpredictable, and my great-uncle always stinks of fish-"

Edward laughed, then coughed. Thomas managed a small smile.

"It's true," her eyes twinkled. "That smell will _never_ leave him." She linked an arm through Edward's then held out a hand to Thomas. He slowly got to his feet and took it.

Glancing at Edward's red-rimmed eyes, he felt an overwhelming urge to apologize. "I am sorry," he whispered. "I-I can't forget everything I feel. I don't know if I will ever be able to give my blessing to them, but I will try to understand. To accept them." _And to keep an eye on Father, and Daisy._

 _I never want them to be hurt._

"I will go home," he said. "When the king gives us leave." He stumbled forward and gave Edward a hug.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," his mate whispered into his hair. Thomas smiled.

"I do all the time. You're allowed to sometimes." He took a deep breath. "I forgive you. You-you are wanted, you know. By me. And others."

"Thank you," A tear glimmered in one of Edward's eyes. He reached out and smoothed down several wild black hairs.

"You always forgive me, I thought I would return the favor," Thomas murmured. "Why _are_ you so kind to me? I'm an ass most of the time."

"Yes, you are," Edward pursed his lips. A glint sparkled in his eye. "Well, it's easy to forgive someone when they _don't_ stink of fish." The other two laughed out loud.

The three of them walked back to the hall, their arms linked together.

* * *

 **A/N: The next chapter will be back to Charles, Elsie and Daisy. And the contents of the message to Cora will be revealed.**

 **If you have time, please leave a review. They mean more to me than I can possibly express. Thank you most kindly!**


	21. Two Women

**A/N: First off, TW for implied sexual assault. I tried to describe it secondhand without going into the gory details, because none of you are children (I hope) and will understand what's going on.**

 **One of the things that has fascinated me about Greek mythology is the idea that the gods are not "perfect", in the same sense of the Christian ethos. They sometimes make mistakes and have to deal with some of the same consequences that humans do. That is something I am trying to explore in this story.**

 **I am a perfectionist, so if I've completely lost you, please tell me. I'm posting this without going over it with a fine-tooth comb. If there are any glaring mistakes, I will fix them later.**

 **Major thanks to ChelsieSouloftheAbbey for reading part of this and propping up my wavering self-confidence.**

* * *

As much as Charles and Elsie would have enjoyed several days (really much longer) to themselves, they both knew that life would not allow for the indulgence.

The sheep would not watch themselves, even with the help of the dogs. Nor bread bake itself.

But they refused to be separated completely. Stolen moments and hours together, whether in the day or night, were spent in her home.

The apprentices would move in to Elsie's hut as soon as May could be spared to look after them. The older woman's sister-in-law had been ill since Midsummer, but was finally recovering.

May was surprised to hear the shepherd would no longer need her. But she agreed to look after the young men. "They can fight each other over meals instead of you," she said.

"I did not tell her we were married," Charles said to Elsie that evening as they stood under the oak tree. "She will find out soon enough. She assumed Daisy would take over the baking and such." He paused. "I think she thinks you are leaving."

They were going to the temple the next day to tell the priestesses and to make the sacrifice. "I am glad you kept silent about us," Elsie sighed, her hands on his chest. "Or else it would be spread all over the kingdom by dawn."

In truth, she was a little nervous as to how people would react.

Charles smiled, his arms around her waist. "The lads haven't told anyone." _Thomas could have told everyone at court by now._ He had only sent the letter three days previously, but doubted his son would be eager to spread the news.

She arched an eyebrow. "You have not let any of them off the land since Midsummer. Who could they tell?"

"Daisy is ready to burst," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I told her after we take her to Bill, she is at liberty to tell whoever she wants." His lips traveled lower to her cheek.

A moment later they were on hers. Elsie slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders, then to the back of his neck. They kissed quietly, slowly. A long exchange without words.

"I must rest," she whispered, breaking away. "As much as I would like you to stay. You have to take the watch - poor Andy has been up all day in this heat."

" _Poor Andrew_ ," he murmured against her lips, pulling her closer. "Poor _me_ , more like. How can I leave you?"

"Think of this," she ran her hands down his arms, "the sooner you take the watch, the sooner the night will come, and the sooner the dawn. Then the sooner we go the temple, and the sooner we can be together in the same house-"

Charles began laughing before she was finished, his mirth vibrating against her body. "We will not be alone all the time, you remember. Daisy will come home every few days. _I_ can control myself," he leaned his forehead against hers.

"I am capable of restraining myself as well, Master Shepherd," she murmured. "From time to time."

He left soon after, and she went into the hut. It was emptier than when she arrived. The small rug and bench were already in Charles's home. _Her_ home. She would take the sheepskin with her the following day.

She woke at the sound of someone calling her name.

"Elsie? Elsie, wake up." It was the deep, distinct voice of her husband. She blinked heavily. The fire that she had lit burned low, the red coals glimmering in the dark.

Stretching, she smiled sleepily at him. "I should have known you would come here before dawn."

He was crouched beside her, his hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry to wake you, but something's happened. Will you come with me?" He did not sound concerned, but she detected a serious tone with him.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She took his outstretched hand and stood up, pulling on the cloak, and they walked into the night.

The stars shone above them. "Daisy asked for you," he said, keeping hold of her hand so she did not stumble behind him.

"Is she all right?" she stifled a yawn, feeling only half-awake.

"Y-yes." He wondered how to tell her. Not that his daughter had actually _told_ him what had happened. Although he had a feeling he knew what it was.

He felt out of his depth.

 _I know nothing about this._

They reached the house. A fire burned low in the ashes. Andy snored against one wall, while Jimmy nodded at them, then laid down on his pallet on the opposite side. Charles pulled back the blanket. Daisy was sitting up, studying the flame of the oil lamp.

Elsie stepped past Charles and sat down next to her. One look at the girl's face and she knew.

Daisy cried as Elsie held her. Questions tumbled out, and her new mother did her best to explain what had happened to her.

Yes, it was normal for there to be a _lot_ of blood. Yes, there were herbs she could take to help with the pain. No, she would not have to stay in the house during every cycle.

"In the eyes of the world, you are a woman now," Elsie said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Daisy sniffed. "I don't feel like one," she whispered.

"That will come with time," Elsie rubbed her back. Daisy frowned, her eyes fearful.

"Papa's not going to make a betrothal for me, is he? When my friend Faun started bleeding, _her_ father betrothed her to a man from Crowborough. They were married last autumn – I have not seen her since!"

Elsie shook her head firmly. "No, your father would never do that. You are too young."

 _He will let you choose your mate, in your own time._

 _If only my father were like that._

"Will you tell him what happened? I…I don't think I can." Daisy's voice was small.

She kissed Daisy's head. "I can, if you insist. But I think he would rather hear it from you."

"It's…it's _embarrassing_ ," the girl muttered.

"It is not meant to be," Elsie said. "It is a part of life." After a while, Daisy worked up her courage. Elsie went to get Charles, who sat near the fire behind the blanket. He tentatively joined his daughter, trepidation on his face. Elsie went outside to give them privacy.

It was as he expected. His little girl was a child no longer. Daisy gave him a big hug, and asked if _he_ was all right. That made him shed a few tears.

"You must think your papa's an old fool," he said, smiling as he wiped his eyes. "You go through a change like that, and _I'm_ the one in tears!"

"I cried too," Daisy confessed. She grinned, and nudged him. "I must have gotten that from you."

Charles reminded her that she needed to go to the temple. As he and Elsie were going the next morning, he decided that Daisy would go with them to make the necessary prayers.

* * *

The early morning dew was gone by the time they set out.

"I am sorry to have woken you last night," Daisy yawned, her eyes heavy.

Elsie shrugged. "I am glad you did," her eyes twinkled as she and Charles exchanged a glance.

The road to the village was mostly empty, except for a man driving a cart ahead of them. When they reached Downton, there were hardly more people to be seen. Charles frowned.

"That's odd. The market should be open – where _is_ everyone?"

Stalls were set out, though not as many as usual. Only a few people wandered among them. Elsie held her hand over her eyes to shield the sun. "Maybe there is sickness." With all the people who had been there on Midsummer it would not be surprising. Charles nodded, a worried expression on his face.

"Daisy?" A man's voice made them all turn. Bill hurried down the street. "I thought I saw you! I should have known your father would never have let you walk here alone." He nodded at Charles and Elsie in greeting. "Joseph has not left Phyllis's side every time she leaves the house."

"Is it the fever?" Charles asked. "It can spread like fire once someone has it-"

Bill shook his head, confused. "No, it is not the fever. Nor any sickness. Have you not heard?" He looked from one face to another, and closed his eyes. "Let's sit down." They followed him to a spot on the riverbank, not far from where the competition had been held.

"I-I would not usually speak of it in front of women," Joseph's father said, his voice almost in a whisper. "But you need to know. On Midsummer Night, two women were attacked-"

" _What!?_ " Elsie cried out at the same time as Charles, before she gasped out another question. " _Here!?_ "

Bill nodded. "It was after your lads and Daisy had left. The dancing was going on just a little ways from here-" he pointed up the bank. "I was there with Joseph and Phyllis. And then," his face darkened, "a young woman stumbled into the middle of the circle. Her tunic was almost torn from her body, and even in the dim firelight, we could see how badly hurt she was. My Joseph caught her before she fell down. Bleeding terribly, scratches and bruises all over her. Her face was so swollen it was a miracle she did not lose her sight, Richard said."

"Who was she?" Elsie whispered. She kept her eyes down on the ground, her mind raging. Without thinking, she began tearing the grass around them.

 _How dare he. How_ _ **dare**_ _he! When I find out who did this-_

"Her name is Lavinia," Bill said. "She's from a kingdom far south of here. She came with her cousins to celebrate Midsummer here, and to visit friends. Apparently she knew Lady Mary's late husband Matthew in her childhood."

"You said there were _two_ women attacked," Charles swallowed. "Who else?"

"A young woman named Ethel was able to run from him. She ran straight to the temple, to safety," Bill explained. "I heard from Richard that Ethel said someone helped her. Someone tried to stop her attacker, and it gave her enough time to get away from the danger. But I don't know who helped her," he pulled at his thinning hair. "From when Lavinia appeared, it sounds like the man attacked Ethel first."

"And the villain who attacked her? Was it the same man who attacked Lavinia? Or was there more than one?" Charles asked. A terrible feeling of dread took hold of him. _It could have been Daisy. Or Elsie. Or someone else you know._

 _Those women are someone's family._

"Yes, as far as we know," Bill replied. "Just the one. Ethel was able to give a better description of him, mostly because she saw his face. A stranger, not from here. No one knew who he was." He swallowed. "From what Lavinia could remember, it sounded like the same man. He grabbed her from behind, and dragged her into an abandoned stall."

Elsie pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, swallowing back bile. Daisy's eyes were wide. Charles leaned forward.

"And no one heard _anything_? Or saw anything? Surely someone would have _seen_ -"

Shaking his head, Bill sighed. "The man, whoever he was, chose the time well. He was also fortunate that Ethel was initially too shaken to raise the alarm at once. No one blames her for that, poor woman. Lavinia was attacked after moonrise, only a few feet away from her cousins. The music and dancing were very loud. They never heard anything. Naturally, they feel terrible." He explained they had sent word to Lavinia's father, and were waiting for her to recover enough before traveling once again.

Elsie sat motionless, consumed by horror and guilt. _If she prayed, then I should have heard her._

 _After moonrise on Midsummer? Did you hear anything that night other than the beat of your own heart?_

It sickened her that she did remember now – the voice had been faint, and not very coherent. A small voice, pleading for help. From _her._

 _And I was not there._

 _I…failed._

"Ow," Daisy muttered. Elsie loosened her grip, realizing she had been squeezing Daisy's arm.

"Sorry," she whispered. Charles and Bill were still talking. Even though it was mostly clear that the man was a stranger, there was no hint as to whether he had left the kingdom, or still lurked near Downton.

It was not sickness, but fear that kept people inside. Children did not play outdoors, and no female went anywhere alone.

Lavinia was being cared for by her cousin Helen, and Isobel. Richard would usually do so, but the young woman did not want to be touched by any man. Hector, Helen's brother, was staying with the healer while the women stayed with the priestesses.

Violet had written to her son. Robert had immediately sent several of his most trusted men to scour the village and the hills beyond for any sign of the stranger. Several guards also stayed in the village to keep a watch.

"The king went into a rage, I heard," Bill said. "That something like that happened the day he was here, that women were treated in such a way, in _his_ kingdom. The queen and Lady Mary were horrified."

"I can imagine," Charles said, his eyes dark with anger. His dread lessened as his anger rose. "If there is anything I or my lads can do to help-"

"Murray will be here in the next day or so," Bill said, standing up. The others did the same. "I will tell him of your offer. In the meantime," he gently put a hand on Daisy's shoulder, "Joseph, Phyllis and I will keep a close watch on your girl. We won't let anything happen to her, I promise." He gave her a small smile. "Let's go to the house, shall we?"

"Oh," Charles said. He had almost forgotten why they had come. "She needs to come with us for now. We-we have business to attend to. But I'll bring her back later this morning."

"All right. I will see you later, Daisy," Bill walked away.

The three of them stood for a moment. The sun was bright, the morning clear, and yet it felt as though a dark cloud had descended upon them.

They walked through the mostly deserted marketplace, the temple of Eala ahead of them. Both Elsie and Daisy turned to look and see if Ivy was there. Neither was surprised that she was not.

There were four guards posted by the great doors to the temple, two on either side. They let Elsie and Daisy pass, but stopped Charles.

"Who are you?" one asked, his voice curt. "Why do _you_ come here?"

"Steady on, Roland," another said, motioning for Charles to pass. "He does not match Ethel's account. He's too tall."

Charles went through the doors. He heard another guard speak behind him. "Too old, as well."

Elsie and Daisy stood just inside, waiting for him.

* * *

Violet was on duty, overseeing two girls who were hanging a tapestry near the fertility altar. Charles quickly explained the reason for Daisy's presence. The older woman, who normally had a rather stern countenance, smiled gently at the girl and took her into the garden. They came back with a rose cutting. The priestess then sent the two girls out.

Charles and Elsie stood back and watched Daisy approach the great altar and lay the cutting down. She looked tiny beneath the statute of Eala. Charles sniffed once, and Elsie slipped her hand into his. The priestess chanted a prayer, signaling Daisy to repeat the phrases after her.

They stood with Daisy in front, Violet's hands on her shoulders.

"You have now crossed the threshold," the priestess told her. "When you leave these walls, you will no longer be a child, but will begin your journey to womanhood. Some girls reach it faster than others. And some," a twinkle glimmered in her eye as she whispered in Daisy's ear, "some of us never quite grow up."

Daisy smiled widely, showing her dimples.

"Now," the older woman turned to the couple watching, "are you planning on making your vows?" she half-laughed, her blue eyes shining. "That would be a first – Charles does nothing in haste."

The two gaped at her for a moment, then both looked down. Their hands were still intertwined.

"Actually," Charles felt his face warm, "we already made our vows. On Midsummer-"

"At the shrine," Elsie finished, her own face flushed. "We came here to tell you, and to make the necessary sacrifice."

Violet put a hand on her chest, clearly shocked. She glanced at Daisy, who nodded, her glee evident. "Well," she cleared her throat, "that is _not_ what I expected to hear."

Charles thought the look she gave him was one of surprise, with a hint of a smile in it. But when her eyes slid to Elsie he saw fear in them.

He was probably seeing things. After hearing the news Bill had shared earlier, he felt as though everyone around him was likely anxious. Especially the priestesses. They were the ones who had actually dealt with the two women attacked.

"The both of you had better come with me," Violet said, regaining her composure. They followed her to the garden, where Charles cut a rose. Then they returned inside to stand in front of the altar.

Kneeling on the floor, they let the priestess bind their wrists together. She lit the incense while they offered prayers to the goddess. Charles coughed, the acrid scent making his eyes water.

Violet stood behind them, one hand on each of their heads. "Divine Love, bless this pair before you. Look upon them with favor. May they honor each other, and honor you as they walk together." She had them get up, and face each other, holding hands. "May the vows you have spoken never be forgotten," she continued. "Remember that you belong to one another. Let no angry words, misdeeds, or any person come between you. Beauty and fruitfulness fade, but your vows remain. Remember that love unites you."

For a moment, it felt to Charles as though everything else faded away. All of the worry, anger and fear from earlier disappeared, and only Elsie mattered. Only them.

Daisy smiled as they kissed before the altar. High in the rafters a dove cooed.

000000000

"I want to stay awhile," Elsie said quietly, as Violet went to summon Isobel. She touched Charles's arm. "Go and take Daisy to Bill's."

He reached out and cupped a hand around her face, his thumb on her cheek. "Promise me," he said solemnly, "that you _will_ stay here until I return." A glimmer of a smile appeared at the corner of his lip. "I don't want you to go looking for trouble."

"I will stay," she promised. He sighed, relieved that she knew he was serious.

 _If anything happened to her or Daisy, I do not know what I would do._

He kissed her once more. Daisy then gave Elsie an enormous hug, and the two made plans for when she would next be home.

"I told her to wait for a big baking day," his daughter said as they went out the doors past the guards. "Of course she has to make bread while I'm away, but I want to help her as much as I can." She walked next to her father, holding his hand.

Charles felt a lump in his throat. He could not express how much it meant to him that his daughter was still his little girl, and was not afraid to show it.

After he said goodbye to Daisy at Bill's, he began walking back to the temple. Smiling, he knew no sooner had the door closed at the weaver's house, than his daughter had most likely dragged the older man to the wheelwright's stall so she could tell Phyllis and Joseph.

The village was unnaturally quiet. A few of the stalls in the marketplace were still occupied, but most had been closed for the day. Charles shivered, a weight in his belly.

 _I hope they find the man soon._

The sound of a hammer striking iron rang nearby. He decided on the spur of the moment to visit John, remembering as he quickened his pace, that his friend did not know of his marriage. The blacksmith would rather hear the news from him.

Several figures lounged just outside the forge in the shade of a maple tree. Two were the king's guards, and the rest were local men. One was a farmer Charles recognized. Tim lived near a tiny hamlet east of Downton, called Drewe.

"What brings you here?" Charles asked. The dark-haired man's forehead crinkled in worry.

"To get my sword sharpened," he said grimly. "That's why most of us are here. I was here on Midsummer with my family. Margie, the children, and Dad. Margie's been nearly ill with worry over what happened to those poor women, and I have to say the same." He crossed his arms. "If something like that happened to my wife, or to our little Susie, I'd find the scum who did it and kill him."

"Are you here to get a sword, Charles?" Jarvis asked. "I'm not sure a shepherd's crook is enough. Though you've also got three young men on your land. I know they all treat Daisy like a sister."

Charles shook his head. "No, I just want to see John."

"You found him," his friend emerged from the forge stripped to the waist, his skin glowing with sweat, his face red. "Toby! Daniel! Go fetch some water for us, please." Two young lads raced out of the hot forge, buckets in hand. John wiped his face.

"I don't know how I would manage without them," he leaned against the tree. "Or without Joe. First Robert sent guards here. Now with what happened on Midsummer, every man for miles is coming to me for either a sword, or to sharpen one they've already got." He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm acquiring more gold than I have had in years, but I can scarcely keep up with the work."

Charles frowned. "Joe? I thought he had taken over the wheelwright's stall."

"He did. Joseph and Phyllis are busy there. That is not who I meant," John gestured to the forge. Charles followed him. Under the roof a breeze blew, but the open fire was almost too hot to stand. "Do you remember Old Joe? He's back."

An ugly, wizened man bent over the fire, delicately tapping a tiny hunk of iron. He did not stop until John touched his shoulder. "Why don't we stop for a while, Joe? Have some water? You must be as dry as the desert." The old man wiped his sweaty face on his filthy apron.

A memory crossed Charles's mind. "I thought you looked familiar at Midsummer," he said. "I am sorry I didn't introduce myself then, I was looking for someone." He thought it had been at least ten years since he had seen Joe.

 _He hardly looks a day older._

 _Or a day younger._

"Charles," Joe replied, dour as the last time the shepherd had seen him. "I remember you." He hesitated. "Thank you for helping me. I lost my balance in the crowd. Not," he frowned, "for the first time that day. Your son nearly ran me over-"

"Did he?" Charles scowled. "I will make sure he apologizes to you when he is next home." Joe waved his hand as they walked out of the forge into the shade.

"No need. He already made his apology. I really do not think he saw me." They sat down, John on one side of the shepherd and Joe on the other. "I met your daughter then as well. Daisy? She's a sweet girl."

The lads returned from the well with the buckets brimming with water. John let Joe drink first before refreshing himself. He then shooed the lads away, with the warning that he would call them soon.

"How is your head, Joe?" John asked, after pouring half a bucket of water on himself. "Do I need to send Toby for another poultice?"

The old man reached up and gingerly removed the cloth tied against his head. "The swelling's gone down. Maybe this evening before I go to sleep."

"That looks painful," Charles said, seeing the egg-shaped knot on Joe's freckled skin. "How did you get that?"

Joe sighed, anger burning in his eyes. "I would get one again a hundred times over if it would have stopped that brute from hurting either of those girls. As it is, he knocked me out." Seizing the ends of his beard, he yanked on the long hair. "At least Ethel got away. But that poor girl, Leslie-"

"Lavinia," John corrected.

"Yes, her – she never stood a chance. That foul _swine_ ," Joe got to his feet, clearly incensed. "That _filth_ , he's lower than the fleas on a _dog_ -"

John stood up. "Calm down, Joe." He put his hand on his partner's arm. "You did your best. Richard was right. If you hadn't interfered, Ethel would not have been able to get away. You saved one of them, at least."

"I should not have had to save either of them!" the old man roared. The group of men waiting abruptly stopped talking and looked over. "Eala's temple is here, this is _her_ place! Where was the goddess when they _needed_ her!?"

"Now wait," Charles said, standing up himself. "That is no way to talk about the Divine Lady, we don't know what her plan is-"

Joe threw his hands up in exasperation. "I _highly_ doubt she is happy when women are violated! I think this proves the stories are true, and she only cares for herself, her vanity, her pleasure-"

" _Stop_ ," thundered Charles, his temper rising. "You know nothing about the goddess, or any of those who watch over us! The terrible deeds that happened here were because of a man's depravity, _not_ Eala-"

"You know nothing either, shepherd," Joe snapped, poking a gnarled finger in Charles's chest. "It would be better for you if you kept silent!"

John shook his head in warning to Charles, who was ready to yell at the old man again. He then motioned for Joe to sit down once more. "You see," he said, his voice calm, "this is why I don't believe in the gods at all. They can never disappoint me. _Enough_ ," he raised his eyebrows at Charles. "What matters is a man did something horrible here, and we are all doing our best to protect our families and friends."

Joe went back into the forge soon after, and resumed hammering. Perhaps with a little more vigor than before. John and Charles walked a short distance away.

"He is a tremendous help to me," John murmured, "and he means well. But he has a temper, and what happened-well, he feels like until the man is found and punished, justice will not be done."

"We all feel that way," Charles replied, still feeling rankled. "That does _not_ excuse him from insulting Eala!"

John ran a hand through his hair. "To tell the truth, I've never heard him insult _any_ of the gods. Certainly not Eala. Before today, I would have thought his piety matched yours."

"He has a funny way of showing it." They approached the empty marketplace.

"What is it you wanted to see me for, if not a sword?" John asked, crossing his arms.

Charles relaxed, a smile dissolving his anger. "I wanted to tell you, before you found out elsewhere," he cleared his throat, "I married Elsie. At Midsummer. We've just been to the temple to make the sacrifice."

John's mouth fell open. He stood gaping for several moments, before a soft smile of his own appeared. "Well, I'll be. I never thought you could surprise me, but I stand corrected." He gripped Charles's shoulder. "May you and your wife have many happy years together," He shook his head in wonder. "I suppose you simply did not feel the need to wait? And neither did she, apparently."

"No," Charles felt his smile grow wider.

Laughing, John slapped him on the back. "When you find the right woman, you just know." He paused. "I know how you feel."

"Oh?" It was the shepherd's turn to be surprised. A little smile played on his friend's face.

* * *

She stood facing the statue. So many emotions swirled inside her. Joy, love, happiness for her marriage. Pride in Daisy, who made her sacrifice with such grace. The girl was not afraid.

Troubled at Violet's expression. The priestess was no fool. It made Elsie uneasy, the fear in the woman's eyes. _Perhaps she suspects something._

Shame, guilt and rage over what had happened to Ethel and Lavinia.

 _Had I been anywhere else, I would have stopped him._

It unnerved her that such a thing had happened _here_ , on Midsummer, on _her_ day. It almost smelled to her of someone lurking in the shadows.

Or perhaps not.

 _Evil men do not always care what day they set their plans in motion. Neither do the gods, if they have mischief in mind._

Perhaps she was just being overly suspicious. After all, the king had attended for the first time in years. The crowds were larger, more travelers had come to Downton.

"There you are," a voice startled her out of her thoughts. Isobel came through the doorway from the garden, smiling. "My cousin tells me you are to be congratulated." She held out her hands and took Elsie's, then embraced her. "May you be blessed, you and Charles both."

For a split second, Elsie thought she saw a spark of fear in the woman's eyes.

 _Steady on, girl._

"Thank you," she said, feeling her trepidation melt away at the thought of her husband. A warm smile spread across her face. "We did not do things in the traditional way. I'm afraid we shocked Violet."

"Oh nonsense," the woman scoffed. "Charles actually doing something quickly for once is shocking in and of itself!" She linked an arm through Elsie's, leading her to the bench by the wall. "You are in much better spirits than the last time I saw you here. Am I correct in thinking you have found a way to be together with the one you love?"

It impressed her that Isobel remembered their conversation. "Yes," she replied. _For a while._

"I'm glad," Isobel patted her hand as they sat down, "because you were so devastated when you were last here. No one should have to endure pain if they don't have to."

The mention of pain reminded Elsie of her troubled feelings. "How are the women? Ethel, and Lavinia?"

Isobel's face grew grave. "Ethel will be all right in time. She has only a few bruises, but her fear, and her anger, will linger for a while. Lavinia…her wounds will heal. But I fear her spirit is broken." Tears filled her eyes. "She will carry that night with her for as long as she lives."

Elsie felt a lump in her throat. "Is there no hope for her?"

"Some," Isobel wiped her eyes. "Her cousins have been wonderful. They do anything for her. And everything they say about her father is encouraging. They say he will not blame her for what happened."

Closing her eyes, Elsie let out a breath. _That is what she needs more than anything. Kind, patient, and loving family and friends._

A young woman with dark eyes and rich wine-colored hair poked her head around the corner. "Priestess," she murmured, "Lavinia wanted to sit in the garden a little while. Helen went to lay down, so Violet and I brought her. Your cousin wanted you to know."

"Thank you, Ethel," Isobel said, her eyes gentle. "Come in, if you want. Elsie and I were only talking."

Misery marred the young woman's face, tinged with more than a little anger. "No," she snapped. "I told you yesterday I won't have anything to do with Eala. Some help she is – a total stranger saved me from Lavinia's fate! The goddess had nothing to do with him!"

It was as if someone had stabbed Elsie with a dagger.

"Well," Isobel seemed unfazed, "if you change your mind, the temple is always open to you." Ethel disappeared around the corner, her eyes hard.

Her very being reeked of hostility. Elsie could hardly blame her.

Swallowing hard, she turned to the priestess. "Do you-do you think Lavinia would mind if I saw her? I-I only want to give her comfort." _If I can._

Isobel hesitated, then nodded. "If you aren't too long."

Elsie got up and went into the garden. Ethel was cutting several dahlias in one corner. Tears were visible on her face. Violet sat on a stone bench near the center, by a riot of tall yellow ranunculus.

A pale woman with light rose-colored hair sat, half leaning against the older priestess. A chill went down Elsie's back.

 _Both of them have reddish hair._

 _Like mine._

"Lavinia?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The woman turned her head slightly. In her eyes was an expression of such suffering Elsie lost her breath. She licked her lips. "My name is Elsie." She slowly walked toward the bench, moving until she knelt down next to it.

Reaching out, she touched Lavinia's hand. It was cold. "I-I am so, _so_ sorry," she whispered. "It was not your fault. _None_ of it was your fault."

"I know," the woman said. Her voice was soft. "I-thank you for your concern."

 _Her pain and grief are almost too much to bear. She has wept until she feels almost nothing. But when she does, her anger will begin. And after that?_

The only consolation was that beneath the woman's desolation, Elsie detected a strength, like a tree cut almost to its roots. Almost, but not quite.

 _Her spirit is damaged, but not broken._

"May you have healing," she whispered. No other words seemed necessary. She pressed a soft kiss to Lavinia's hand before getting to her feet. The young woman blinked and her chin wobbled, an unshed tear dangling in the corner of her eye.

Without looking back, Elsie returned inside. She strode to the center of the stone floor, turning in a circle before facing the altar. Isobel rose from the bench but said nothing. Silently, Violet wandered to the arched doorway and stood next to her.

The statute of Eala stared vacantly into the quiet room.

"She should have been here," Elsie whispered, staring at the blank figurine, tears running down her face. "She should have _protected_ those women from such a monster!"

 _It is my fault. Had I not been so enamored with Charles, I would have been there to help them._

"The goddess has many obligations," Isobel said quietly. "I am sure her absence was for a good reason."

Elsie did not regret her marriage, or her love for Charles. But what had happened reminded her that though she was in mortal form, desperate pleas addressed to her could _not_ be ignored.

 _Never again. This must_ _ **never**_ _happen again._

With this awareness came another understanding.

Violet came and stood beside her, looking up at the statue. "It is not the fault of the divine when evil strikes – though the man may have been influenced by one of the gods. That we do not know. But it may have been of his own will." Her eyes softened. "Eala no doubt knows that she does not, _cannot_ control the actions of men. Whether they have dark intentions towards women or others. Or," she turned slightly to the figure next to her, "when they fall in love with a goddess."

It was as though the very air held its breath. Elsie could see tiny particles hanging in the sunlight as it fell from the high windows onto the floor.

Gazing straight in front of her, Elsie opened her mouth and sighed. The air stirred again. A sparrow high up in a window sang. "I will not," she murmured, "insult you by asking what you mean."

A strange sense of calm filled her. _She – they – know._

 _They know who, and what, I am._

"Nor would we expect you to," Isobel crossed the floor and stood on her other side, her hands folded on her waist. "But will you forgive us for not addressing you with the proper respect?"

Elsie turned and looked into her eyes. "Yes. You…were not meant to know. No mortal was."

She knew instinctively not to reveal herself in divine form in front of the two women. _There is no need, not when their eyes are already open._

"Perhaps not," Violet said. "But the heavens have been alight for days, and the very earth blossoms because of your joy. Love is kindled even in the most unlikely of hearts. I have served in this place for many years, and my cousin has long studied your ways. We would be poor stewards indeed if we did not recognize the Divine Lady when she made her presence known."

Then the priestess, servant of Eala, once a mortal queen herself and mother to a king, curtsied until her knees were on the floor, her head bowed. Isobel did the same.

"Rise," Elsie said. They did so. She swallowed, feeling the steady rhythm in her chest. The sign of her mortal form. "You must already know this, but I will be plain – only here, in my house, will we speak of this." A slight smile curved on her lips. "We are safe here from the ears of those who would use this knowledge for evil purposes." She sighed. "I have brought terrible danger to you, and to this kingdom. But," her voice wavered and her heart skipped a beat, "There are friends in the heavens who know of my plight, and even now are helping to lessen my peril, and thus your own."

The priestesses exchanged a glance. "Thank you for that. If it sets your mind at ease at all," Isobel stepped forward hesitatingly, "we have been watching for any sign or whisper of your appearance in the village, and beyond, since before Midsummer. The reputation of your beauty has spread far and wide, but no one has yet guessed who you are."

"There is one besides us who needs to know," Violet said, her voice strong. "You know this yourself."

For the first time, Elsie felt her calm waver. "What-what if he doesn't believe me? Then I have risked all for nothing. He would think I have gone mad. And if he _does_ believe me…" she bit her lip, her heart pounding, "will he not think I am simply using him for my own pleasure? You both know well what my reputation is."

"Truth is a high virtue, even among the divine, is it not?" Violet asked. "You must try. Neither of us can say what he will think. Neither can you."

"If harm comes to anyone else," Elsie's voice broke, "it is my fault. I have long sought only my own pleasure and happiness. It was only when I came here…that I found my balance. Found peace." She put a hand on her forehead. "The gods are not always wiser than mortals. As much as we would have you think so."

"And you think your actions will harm others because of your so-called folly?" Isobel tucked an errant strand of hair back. "The gods do not always adhere to rules. Who is to say only harm will come of your being here? It may be a blessing."

 _My love for Charles, a blessing?_ She had been so worried about the adverse effects of her devotion, and the potential danger from her father and Victor, that the idea had not occurred to her. Elsie looked at Violet, who wore an expression she could not read.

"I believe in rules, and traditions, and playing our part," the priestess proclaimed. "But there is something else." Her voice trembled. "Despite my fear for Charles, for our people, for this kingdom…I believe in love."

Elsie smiled as her heart regained its steady beat. "As do I. Above all else."

* * *

That evening, in their shared home, the couple lay together whispering quietly. "You seemed troubled when I left with Daisy," Charles ran a finger over his wife's brow. "But when I came back, you looked as though a weight had left you. Your talk with the priestesses went well?"

"Yes," Elsie kissed him, her lips lingering against his mouth. She had not figured out how, or when to tell him, but the burden of her secret was no longer carried alone. "They had wisdom in abundance to share."

"Good," he gasped, his hand sliding down to her hip. "Do you want to share it with me?"

"Not just now," she whispered. Her fingers ran through his wild hair, untidying it further. "I was hoping to share what I feel for you. Unless you would rather hear wisdom," she teased.

"It can wait," he said in a strangled voice.

The knowledge, and the wisdom, would wait for another day. But their love would not wait for the night to come.

 **A/N: Please review if you have time. Thanks a million!**


	22. Secrets

**A/N: Well. By the end of this chapter you will know who Victor is. For those of you who have been guessing in the reviews, or commented to me personally, thank you! I enjoyed hearing your theories. His character was one of those set before I wrote the first full chapter, so I've been dropping hints ever since.**

 **Also a reminder that while this story is inspired by Greek mythology, I did not follow canon stories there either. This remains a mixture of two different mythological stories, Downton Abbey characters, and my own overactive imagination. What I'm trying to say is don't take mythology and try to apply it literally to this. There are parts of it that do fit, and parts of it that don't.**

 **For guest reviewers, please sign up – I'd love to respond to you in person! Thanks to all for their support!**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

The young men stood in a line at attention.

No one moved.

Or breathed.

Robert's face looked like a thundercloud.

"What happened at Midsummer was a tragedy," he paced back and forth in front of them, his voice barely above a whisper. "A terrible stain on Downton, on the kingdom _._ One woman's life is likely ruined, and another will be scarred for the better part of the years to come. If one of you knows who _is_ responsible, and you do not come forward, when-not if I find you, I _will_ send you from my house. Immediately." His eyes smoldered. "The description of the man matches one who fought in the competition."

He then described the man seen by Ethel and glimpsed by Lavinia – tall, with black hair and brown eyes. A slight bruise on his right cheek.

Thomas stared straight ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, the guard next to him swallowed, a bead of sweat running down his temple.

He felt his own sweat running down the back of his neck. It was not just the sun beating down in the small courtyard.

"I gathered those of you who competed together for this reason." The king stopped in front of a skinny lad who was trembling. "If any of you fought him, spoke with him, or saw him, I expect you to tell me before my family eats tonight." He waved his hand, dismissing them all.

Fleeing into a small room, Thomas opened the little door leading to a dark cellar and climbed down. He lit the oil lamp once more and began to examine the wineskins. Before Robert had summoned him, he had been tasked to find the old skins, and replace them.

Wine was the last thing on his mind.

A shadow from the room above darkened his vision. Edward climbed down next to him. There was so little room there, practically any movement meant they bumped each other. His mate took the wineskin from his hands gently.

"You have to tell the king," he whispered. "Soon. One of the guards, Phillip, fought Alexander in the competition as well. If someone remembers you had a match with him-"

"I know," Thomas muttered. He reached for the lamp and held it while Edward poured the wine from the old skin into a new one. "If only I knew for _sure_ he was responsible." He bit his lip. "I had a bad feeling about the man, but that means nothing."

"He matches the king's account. And you know he was in the village on Midsummer Night."

"Yes, he was." Shivering, he set down the lamp. The light cast flickering shadows around them. "At least, the last time I saw him was in the crowd near the riverbank." _Laughing, drinking wine, playing a game of dice with both men and women._ He shook his head. "I should have stayed close to him, followed my instinct."

 _My instinct was to run far away from him._

 _Why did I not_ _do_ _something? Warn others?_

"Blame me if you like," Edward set the new wineskin carefully next to the others. "You were trying to find me."

"He said-" Thomas licked his lips, casting aside the old wineskin in a pile, "when he approached me after the competition, he said something about seeing the women and girls about, that they had left the safety of the hedge…"

His belly heaved, and he put a hand to his mouth. He could taste the fish he had eaten earlier that morning.

"I only wonder," he whispered, "if I should tell the king that he wanted to see Elsie? I don't want to draw any further attention to her than necessary."

His anger had subsided over his father's marriage. He was not happy about it, but now that the woman was his stepmother, he felt at least a nominal loyalty to her safety.

And a greater loyalty to protect Daisy and his father.

"I don't see why you have to," Edward scratched the back of his neck. Leaning forward, he kissed Thomas on the cheek. "Go. Talk to the king. He was heading to the queen's chambers when I left." He squeezed Thomas's hand. "He will not be too harsh with you in her presence."

* * *

Robert sat on the finely-woven rug, his hands on his knees. A line had appeared between Cora's eyes as she read Alexander's letter.

"You say you did not trust him," she said, her lips in a thin line. "I…I scarcely want to think about what he meant when he spoke of celebrating Midsummer in Downton, and him-" she glanced at the scroll as if it were a pile of horse dung, "-having a 'splendid time'."

"He may have meant just that, nothing more," Thomas gripped his wrist with his other hand behind his back. The queen looked up at him, her eyebrows raised.

"But you think he meant something else."

Thomas looked quickly at the king, then back down at the wooden floor.

"Yes, Milady."

"What was it about this man that caught your attention? To make you believe he may have had evil intentions?" Robert tilted his head. "I believe you, Thomas. But from your own account, he seemed like just another visitor. At least at the beginning."

"I…" Thomas swallowed. "I don't know, milord, something just seemed…wrong about him. A feeling."

It sounded ridiculous, even to him.

But neither of the couple in front of him laughed or chastised him.

"Mama often talks about the gods giving us good sense and sound reason," the king picked up the discarded scroll and read it once more. "Do not be hasty in questioning your own judgment. Alexander certainly matches Ethel's account. I am not sure Lavinia remembers enough. Not that she would want to, poor soul." He spread Thomas's scroll in front of him, next to another.

"Is that the one from John?" Cora leaned forward, holding down the curled message.

"Yes. His partner Joe described the man who attacked Ethel. He supports what she said, and what Thomas has said." He sighed. "From this, I can only conclude that Alexander attacked both women. If he did so, then Downton is safe from further harm, as he seems to have left the kingdom. But it also means that we have no way to see justice done."

He sent Thomas for pen and ink. When he returned, Robert dictated a letter to him. It was addressed to the king's friend Anthony, in Loxleigh. Robert wanted to make sure that Alexander had in fact sent his letter to Thomas from Loxleigh, from the east. And that he had continued traveling on.

Another letter was addressed to the ruler in Painswick. "Surely he and Rosamund have heard the news by now," Cora murmured. "If I know your sister at all, she's already posted guards everywhere."

"That is not the point," Robert snapped as Thomas lay the papyrus flat to let the ink dry. "If that scum dares to make his presence known, I want him caught and brought back here!"

Cora reached out and touched him on the arm. "If he was telling the truth about traveling to the coast, he will be nearly there now."

"I know," the king grumbled, his voice softer. "But I have to try."

"Will there be anything else, milord?" Thomas asked, standing once again.

"He never mentioned his master by name? Or where he came from? If he takes a sea voyage, there are a score of kingdoms he could originate from. Bertie and Edith would be horrified if he came from Hexham."

Thomas shook his head. "He never mentioned a name, just said his master was a wealthy man. Alexander's master must be very rich. I could hardly believe how much gold he gave me." The very thought of it made his belly twist.

"And all for showing him Downton? As pretty as the village is, I would not think the view would be worth so much," Cora frowned, smoothing the fine silk of her dress.

He could say nothing in reply to that, only giving her a nod. Both she and the king assumed he had simply shown Alexander around Downton. He had not corrected them.

Robert's brow was furrowed. "I do not like this mention of his master being pleased," he said. "Alexander sounds like a spy, as well as a villain." He sighed. "He could have been lying about having a master, too. A rich man traveling in disguise…"

"I don't think so, milord," Thomas said, before stopping himself. His eyes widened. "I beg your pardon."

Waving it aside, Robert shook his head. "No, please continue."

"His clothes were not that of a wealthy man," Thomas thought hard. "They had been worn a long time. But more than that…it was what he said about his master, that he was generous with his servants." He didn't remember precisely what Alexander had said, but he remembered the look on the man's face. "Whatever his evil nature, he respects his master. I'd put a wager on that."

"Which, knowing his nature, is no comfort at all," Robert drew his hand over his face. "If his master is anything like him. And the description of a generous master could also be almost anyone. The man concealed himself well."

The ink had dried on the letters, and the king sealed them himself. Before leaving their presence, and with some hesitation, Thomas told them of his father's marriage. It occurred to him that his father likely had told John, and he did not want to be criticized later for not mentioning such significant news.

"Charles _married!?_ " Robert gasped. "He said _nothing_ to me at Midsummer! This Elsie must have utterly enchanted him!"

Cora was delighted. "Having seen her, I think that is likely," she said, a wide smile on her face. "But she must love him too, to marry in such haste! Thomas," she gestured to the ink, "please leave it. I want to write to my mother…and my mother-in-law. Could you send Sarah-no, she's working on my dress. Send Sybil to me at once. I want to send a gown to Elsie."

The queen was well known for sending generous gifts to women across the kingdom for special occasions.

"Better write to Isobel as well, or she'll feel left out," Robert got to his feet and gestured for Thomas to open the door. " _Married._ Your father married again!" he shook his head in wonder. "After you find Sybil, join me in the wine cellar. As astonished as I am, I want to send your father a gift as well – one that _he_ will appreciate."

It did not take long for Thomas to find Sybil and send her to the queen. By the time he went back to the cellar, the king was already there, searching among the wineskins.

Holding the oil lamp steady, Thomas shifted his foot a little to the right. The narrow ladder was not very comfortable to stand on. It was one thing to work next to Edward, but he knew better than to join the king in the cramped space. Robert bent over further and picked up a skin that was hidden in the near darkness.

"This was made the year Mary was born," he said. "The year Charles and I came back from the war. Did you know he fought alongside me?"

"Yes, milord," Thomas held the lamp closer as Robert set the wineskin gently at the foot of the ladder. "He fought with you and your cousin James."

Robert rested a finger against his cheek, staring off into the darkness. "He was there when James died." He glanced at Thomas. His eyes were soft, remembering. "He blamed himself after the battle…he thought it was his fault my cousin and heir lost his life."

A lump formed in Thomas's throat. He could not look away.

"But after a long time he was able to see things more clearly. As I hope you do." Robert reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for telling me what you saw. It took courage to tell the truth. What happened to Lavinia and Ethel was not your fault," he murmured. "It was _not your fault_ , Thomas."

"I should have done something," Thomas whispered. He blinked, cleared his throat. Looked at the dirt floor. "I _knew_ there was something wrong with him. Why I did as he asked, kept his gold…I don't know."

"You cannot go back to Midsummer and refuse him," Robert said sensibly. "Nor did you truly know what he was capable of." He squeezed his shoulder. "What has been done, is done. You will be more on your guard in the future. But what of the gold? Have you spent it?"

Thomas shook his head, steadied the lamp in his hands. "I was thinking of giving it away." He and Edward had discussed it, but neither could figure out how to dispense with such a large sum.

It did not seem right to give it to one person. And who could he give it to without being asked where it came from?

A gleam appeared in the king's eyes. "That is an excellent idea. Perhaps it can be used to bring peace to those he has wronged." Thomas's head snapped up.

"Th-the women? Would it be proper? They would never accept-"

"They do not have to know where it came from, nor _will_ they ever know," Robert said. "Only you and I, if you agree. If you will entrust me with it, I will make sure it gets to them."

Thomas smiled. Maybe he could still have something good to do with all of this. "I do agree."

It came as a surprise when Isobel and Violet presented Ethel and Lavinia with gold. A gift from kind strangers, they were told. Ethel insisted the larger share go to Lavinia. She was able to leave Downton with her smaller portion and go live near her son Charlie and his grandparents. She became a well-respected farmer.

When Lavinia left the temple, she insisted on leaving a sum of money to the priestesses, to help those in need. She took the rest of it for herself, before traveling home with her cousins. Her father, Reginald, was very protective of her until his death many years later.

* * *

Life returned to a normal pattern. Or at least, to one that reflected the changes the summer brought.

The apprentices thoroughly enjoyed having a hut to themselves. May grumbled to Elsie that the three young men were dirtier than pigs. Charles paid her wages, saying that he hired the lads to watch the flocks, not keep a clean house.

His wife raised an eyebrow at that comment. Later, he told the lads to pick up after themselves better. Out of courtesy.

Daisy came home every few days, always escorted by either Bill or Joseph. Downton was slowly coming back to life, but many people were still hesitant to let their wives, daughters, sisters and sweethearts walk alone. It was a great help that the weather was perfect, the rain and sun coming in equal measure.

Not long after Midsummer, there was much talk that the harvest would be bountiful in the autumn. The marketplace teemed with sellers of fruits and vegetables, of herbs and spices. And people came to buy.

Thomas did not come home as often as his family wished. It was not his reluctance to acknowledge his father's marriage that kept him away.

Master George took ill with a lingering fever, and required his friend's presence for many days. The boy was healthy, and eventually resisted the sickness, but neither his mother nor his grandparents were willing to deny him anything as he recuperated.

All of this came as news from a distant land to Charles. He scarcely left his own pastures, or the meadow up the hill.

But what could possibly encourage him to leave his home, when he had everything he needed?

Elsie had warned him about her weakness at baking and preparing meals. Still, it came as a surprise to him that bread was nearly always burned (Daisy helped when she was home), the cheese _always_ so, fish sometimes raw, sometimes charred beyond recognition.

Only once did Charles say something to his wife about her cooking.

He slept in the meadow that night.

Banished from his own house.

He could live with that, with sleeping under the stars in the warm summer air.

But to be denied the comfort and pleasure of his wife was _not_ something he wanted to live without.

Elsie never said, but he strongly suspected she felt the same the next afternoon when he hesitatingly returned.

Her arms were strong around him, her small hands at the center of his back. He slid his fingers through her hair. Her tongue caressed his, which made him moan.

"We…we should…" he panted, glancing up at their house which stood only a short distance away, across the field.

"Go inside, yes," she gasped. Her hands went to the back of his neck, teasing the ends of his hair. Charles bent his head and pressed his mouth against hers once more.

"We…really…must," she breathed some time later. A slight breeze was a welcome relief against her face. The sun was slowly moving west, but there was a long way to go before it sank below the horizon.

His hands circled her hips, slid over her curves. His breath came in hard gasps. Her hair was tangled, and her cheeks deliciously rosy. But it was the darkness of her eyes, the naked desire there that seduced him.

Somehow they made it closer to the door. She moaned at the feel of him against her when he kissed below her ear. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her a little farther as she ran her fingers through his hair.

They never made it inside.

Her voice crying out his name in the shadow of the doorway, the movement of them together, his arms holding her. His wife, his mate around him, taking him in. He lost himself to pleasure, and from the sound of her voice, she did as well.

He set her down gently on shaking legs. Leaning against the half-open door, she fingered his rumpled tunic. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The air inside the house was stifling.

"I missed you," she whispered, drawing him close to kiss him once more.

"I missed you, too," he sighed as the breeze ruffled his hair. He rubbed his nose against hers. "I'm sorry for complaining about the meal yesterday."

"You're forgiven," her eyes twinkled at him. "I would say come in and eat now, but it is _entirely_ too hot inside-"

"I was thinking of a swim," he swiped at the wet hair above his eyebrows. "Why not bring some food with us to the lake?"

After a long drink of cool water, the two ate a meal of blueberries, cheese, figs and nuts in the shade of the same trees where a group of gods had gathered at Midsummer. Charles was quick to shed himself of his tunic and dive into the water.

Elsie joined him soon after. The cool water on her hot skin felt like pure bliss. She swam, her arms and legs gliding through the water slowly as Charles floated on his back. He showed her how, but kept laughing when she sank.

She blew water out of her nose and mock-glared at him. "Do you think this is funny? I think you _enjoy_ watching me fail!"

"Never," he chortled, wrapping his arms around her so that her back was against his chest. "I _do_ enjoy…seeing you…move…through the water…so…beautifully," he murmured, dropping light kisses across her bare shoulders. On her neck.

They made love under the trees. Slowly. His dark eyes looking up at her, his hands on her waist, her hips, her legs, holding her in place. His _touch_ , what his touch did to her.

It was all she could do to remember his pleasure before her own.

They reached it together.

A flock of sparrows alighted from the branches above them, whirling in an arch in the sky before coming back to rest in the trees. By then, Elsie lay in Charles's arms. Both felt refreshed and rather sleepy. They had clothed themselves again and were content to listen to the sounds of the evening around them.

The sun glowed red behind Charles as he leaned his back against a tree. He laced his fingers through Elsie's, smiling as she hummed, her head against his chest. Feeling, hearing the beat of his heart.

"This is my favorite place," she murmured. He blinked, breathing deeply.

"The lake? We should come back more often. Though Daisy will be home in two days. We will have to wait…"

"Not the lake," she shook her head slowly. "Though it is lovely here."

He frowned. "What is your favorite place, then? Under the trees?" She shook her head. "Er…the meadow?" The same motion. "The ash tree? Our house? Your _old_ house? The little cleft in the hill? The shrine of Eala? _Where?_ " She giggled, shaking her head each time. She wrapped her arms tighter around him.

"Here. In your arms," she whispered.

His heart swelled. "Me too," he kissed the top of her head, feeling his throat tighten.

If his love for her had frightened him when they first met, it would have terrified him now. He had not told her in words, thinking that they simply did not convey what he felt for her.

It was the same for her.

But Elsie was also- _always_ aware that as much as she wanted to tell him, there were certain things she dared not say aloud. Even where it was safe, in the quiet evening by the lake, with the sparrows chattering above them.

 _You must tell him who you are._

She had struggled mightily with how and where to begin. That moment seemed a good time to start.

"It frightens me," she whispered, keeping her voice low. "What I feel for you…I…I've _never_ felt so strongly about anyone before. No one."

She had alluded to him shortly after their marriage of her previous lovers. He had taken it better than she expected, saying that he did not mind. It was not as if _he_ had not indulged himself in former times, before his marriage to Alice. It would have been hypocritical of him to denounce her for doing the same, he thought.

Both were absolutely certain of their mutual fidelity, so there seemed to be nothing more to say about it.

Sometimes he thought of how he compared with others, fleeting moments of doubt when he was watching the flocks. But the way she kissed him, responded to his touch, cried out his name when they were together, spoke to him of a deeper connection.

Her words brought tears to his eyes. "That is how I feel." He moved so that he laid on the ground, with her against him.

She placed her hand on his chest, the other against his shoulder. "It frightens me partly…" she bit her lip, "…partly because of who my father betrothed me to. He has a temper, you see. Not always," she said quickly at his expression, "but when it is kindled, he is dangerous." She swallowed, tasting the blueberries from earlier. "Do you remember the night we went back to my hut and you wanted to build a fire?"

"Yes." He remembered well her grip on his wrist. It was the first time he had ever detected real fear from her.

"I am afraid of fire…because of him." She whispered. Part of her wanted to simply tell him everything, but she knew he was not ready to hear it.

She would have to bring him along gradually.

"He's a blacksmith, you said? Has he _burned_ you?" Charles shifted onto his elbow, setting his hand on her hip. The concern in his eyes melted her heart.

"Yes, a blacksmith. And no, he hasn't…yet. If he found out…" In reality, she knew Victor would not burn _her._ He could not; she was far too powerful.

But it was highly likely that he would not hold back from setting Charles, and any other mortal she cared for, on fire.

The image of her husband and children screaming in flames haunted her.

"Could your father tell him of our marriage in such a way he would not be so angry?" Charles asked, rubbing her back. "Surely he could listen to reason."

Elsie shook her head. "I do not think there is any way he could hear it without anger. I think…in a strange way, he would be less angry that we are married than that we… _care_ for each other so deeply. He can be very jealous."

"So is it best if the truth is kept from him?" Charles could not think of any other solution, but if he would not listen to reason, and was wildly jealous, perhaps it was the only way.

Biting her lip, Elsie nodded. That was, in fact, the plan in place that she and her friends had agreed on Midsummer.

"But surely…he will find out eventually. He will want to marry you at some point," Charles brushed her hair back. It was disconcerting to see her so unnerved. "Are we to continue as we are, waiting for some wild man to show up and burn the house down?"

He wondered what kind of judgment her father had. And worried about what would happen if some unhinged figure came to his home while he or any of his family were there.

 _I must keep them safe._

She breathed out. "I know. It is not the best idea." She pursed her lips together. "Perhaps if I spoke to my father myself…it is the only thing I can think of. He will be near Staithes at the end of the summer."

"When Harold asked me to bring the flocks," Charles finished. He shook his head. "But Elsie, you said your father could be unreasonable. Do you really think you could persuade him? And that he could talk to – Vincent?"

"I have to try," she whispered. "As you said, we cannot live as if the wolf is at our door."

Of course her father would be nowhere near Staithes, at any time in the near future. He was far away, cavorting with nymphs.

But there was a shrine to the Fire God on the road to the distant market town. If she could make an acceptable sacrifice to Victor, perhaps it would pacify him long enough to leave her in peace.

Before she had even left home, she had thought of going there at least once. To show him she honored her promises.

That had been before she met Charles. Before she lost her heart.

 _I can stand before Victor's altar and be truthful. When I have resumed divine form, I will marry him._

She had no intention of resuming her true body until after Charles had departed for Elysium. When his mortal life had ended.

Her husband held her close. When his thumbs brushed under her eyes, she realized she was crying.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Sorry for putting you and our family at risk."

"It is _not_ your fault," he almost growled. "To be at the mercy of a man's raging jealousy! It is not the first time a betrothal has been broken," he said, kissing her forehead. "I wonder at your father, why he chose the blacksmith,"

 _It_ _ **is**_ _my fault we are in danger, more than you know,_ she thought. _And my father chose the blacksmith because of all the gods, Victor is the least pretentious. Once I am his wife, he will possess the greatest treasure in the universe. He will go on happily at his forge, building and creating mighty swords and armor, and beautiful ornaments of jewels._

"He had his reasons," she said softly. "It did not matter that I did not agree."

"And so," he said, trying to make sense of it all, "you are afraid of fire because it reminds you of the blacksmith, what he could do?"

"Yes," she whispered. _And what it represents._ She huddled in his arms, reassured by his heartbeat, and the scent of him.

Charles held her as the evening deepened around them. The sun's rays were almost gone, and stars were visible above them. The moon was waning. Elsie was quiet, but her shoulders, her body was still tense. And he knew.

 _There is something else she is not telling me. Something more._

He did not want to press her, and yet he hated the thought of her carrying a burden alone.

"You are a mysterious woman," he said, keeping his voice light. It worked. She laughed softly, remembering what she had told Thomas at Midsummer.

"I told your son that not long ago, he was curious," she said. He smiled, his finger tracing her jaw.

" _Our_ boy is an intelligent lad. He can get a secret out of almost anyone," he said.

Her smile faded. "He will not get any secrets from me."

"Will I?" his voice was gentle, not probing.

She moved closer to him and left one chaste kiss on his lips before giving him another, deeper one. "Yes. I will tell you everything in due time." She got up and gathered the blanket they had brought.

She was pensive as they walked home, feeling as though she needed to give him some further hint. He was quiet walking beside her.

"I did not come from Merton," she said abruptly. "I…knew Cassandra, but not as a friend." _I heard her prayers. As I hear everyone who prays to me. As I hear yours._

Charles stopped beside the rock wall bordering his land. "I suspected that," he said. "The woman never said a word to me about you. I was under the impression she would send a nephew or grandson to watch the flocks." He reached out, touched her hair. "Where _did_ you come from?"

Her eyes glittered like the stars. "From much further away."

As curious as he was, her nearness called to him. "You will have to tell me from where," he wrapped an arm around her waist, "but not now. Now," he breathed into her hair, "I want to go to our house. Our bed. No distance between us."

She did not need him to say any more. They went inside, keeping the windows open, and the door slightly ajar to let the cooler air outside pass through.

He laid down the sheepskin as she made sure food was properly stored, and set aside the blanket. He stood gazing out the window when he felt her bare arms encircle him. She felt him breathe out.

"Wife."

"Husband." She kissed the middle of his back. He turned, his hands gliding over her body.

"I want you," he said in the deep voice she loved as they laid down. It rang through her body like a reverberating gong. "And I hate to say it, but I cannot have you _all_ night."

"Don't…remind me," she gasped, her breath coming out in bursts as his mouth drifted over the hollow of her throat. "I am…well aware I have to get up at the third watch." She raised her head. "So do not keep me waiting too l-"

Her words were lost in a moan. She clenched her fingers, pulling his hair.

" _Charles,_ " she breathed. He gasped, his breath hot against her skin.

Neither she nor he had to wait long at all. Their voices mingling, crying out their shared pleasure.

Elsie fell asleep soon after, her husband following her into rest. But not before he took a long, lingering look at the woman in his arms.

Unknowingly, she repeated his gesture when she got up a short while later. At the door, she smiled at the sight of him in deep slumber, that errant curl on his forehead.

 _He is my husband. I can trust him._

She went out to the flock on the hill, her heart at rest.

* * *

 **A/N: The next chapter will be another snippet, like the prologue. After Easter, I will return to the regularly scheduled mammoth chapters.**


	23. The Great Divide

_Those that dwell in the divine halls may seem to have everything mortals do not. Eternal life. Great power. Omniscient vision._

 _All these the gods possess._

 _But on those occasions when they don the mantle of the mortals below them, these traits are altered. Everlasting life they keep. But their power and vision are hidden. Their gifts are not diminished, yet as long as an immortal walks among the living world, they are bound both by the secret of their true nature as well as the limitations hiding it._

 _The gods, too, have boundaries._

 _Most were set in place by the King long ago. Even he abides by them while traveling among mortals._

 _When Eala assumed mortal form, her vision was limited. She continued to hear prayers offered to her, and she continued to give her gifts of love, beauty and fertility. But she could no longer see clearly._

 _She was well aware of this, and of the potential danger it represented. It was why she felt such fear on Midsummer when she perceived Victor's presence. And why she felt such guilt over the ordeal inflicted on Lavinia and Ethel._

 _The gods can read the thoughts of mortals, and of each other, but not while they themselves are in mortal form. There are exceptions – Eala and Harmony share a bond that surpassed their limitations. Likewise, the friendship between Beryl and her dearest friend meant they were aware of each other's thoughts, even if they could not hear them directly._

 _It is not usual for the gods to walk with their vision dimmed. When they gather in the sacred halls, however, it is rare for them to inquire into the minds and hearts of mortals. Their concerns are almost always more with themselves._

 _Alone among them who knows intimately both mortals and the gods is the Messenger God. He often crosses the divide between them. It is one of his duties that he escorts the newly dead to the River, where the ferryman takes them either to Hades or to the Elysian Fields._

 _It was his knowledge of both worlds that caused him to see Eala's love for Charles before anyone else._

 _Clothed yet as a mortal, Elsie was also keenly aware of the divide between herself and the man she loved._

 _Whether it could be bridged once he knew the truth she could not guess._

 _Nevertheless, Charles, her husband, her man, deserved to know the truth._

 _She resolved to tell him._

 _The difficulty would be in how to persuade him without her assuming divine form._

* * *

 **A/N: Blessed Easter to those who celebrate it! Whether or not you observe the holiday, I hope you all have a fantastic weekend!**


	24. The Statue

**A/N: I am so sorry about the delay on this. Life and other things intruded. But this is once again at the front of the line, writing-wise, and will stay there for the foreseeable future.**

 **Angst alert. I never thought Charles would take the truth about Elsie well. I have tried not to have him be overly angry, or cruel, but in all honesty – how would** _ **you**_ **react if your spouse told you he/she was divine? Lots of his POV here, and more to come.**

* * *

He reached the shrine as the sun was setting, the orange rays gleaming through the trees, casting shadows.

The path to the entrance looked as though it was on fire. Charles hummed as he lit the torches.

"Papa!"

Daisy ran down the path towards him as he turned, shading his eyes against the glare. She hugged him still at a half-run. He stumbled back against a pillar.

"Careful, or you'll knock your old father over," he grinned and kissed her before letting go of her. "I'm sorry I have duty tonight. I would rather sit down at table with my two favorite women."

"We would too," she tucked a stray piece of hair back. "Especially as I made bread for Phyllis this afternoon, and Mother did _not_ burn the fish!"

Two figures walked at a slower pace down the path, talking quietly. Charles was happy to see Joseph. The wheelwright had not walked Daisy home for several weeks, letting his father do it.

Elsie approached her husband and gave him a bundle of food. She kissed him on the lips, only lingering a short while. "I suppose Daisy told you of my triumph?"

"The fish? She did," He smiled at the mirth dancing in her eyes. "Thank you for bringing this." Looking up, he reached out and shook Joseph's hand. "I hope them coming here first doesn't detain you from home too long."

Joseph shook his head. "Not at all. I had not seen you for a long time and – well, to tell the truth, Phyllis practically pushed me out of the house. She said she'd survive with Dad looking after her until I got home."

"Overbearing much?" Charles could not help teasing him a little. Joseph shrugged, grinning.

"Well, maybe a _little_. Can you blame me?"

"No," Daisy laughed. "But poor Phyllis!" she exclaimed. "She can barely pick up a cloth without you telling her to sit down!" Elsie smiled, putting her hands on her daughter's shoulders.

"You mean well," she told Joseph. "But your wife is strong, and can handle more than what you think."

"Is the sickness any better?" Charles set down the bundle gently, folding his arms.

"Some," Joseph sighed, fingering his thinning hair. "If only it were the same, but it seems to change all the time! One day she wants figs, the next day she can't stand the smell of them! I'm at my wit's end!"

"It will pass in time," Elsie reassured him. "By the time your child quickens, Phyllis will be much like her old self."

They stood talking until the sun was low on the horizon. There was news to share, mostly of those they knew well.

Thomas was coming home at the next new moon. Master George was well, and had finally given his consent for his friend to visit. Edward would be coming along, and most likely Sybil.

Anna was traveling with them until they reached Downton. Then she would call on Phyllis, before going to the forge.

Daisy's eyes lit up as they chatted about the young woman. "Papa, has Master John said anything to you? _I_ think he likes _her_ a lot. Maybe even loves her! Edward says Anna is in love with him."

Much as he tried, Charles could not keep a small smile from his lips. "I think you're right. John seems to like _Anna_ , more than anyone I've ever known him to."

He would not, of course, betray his friend's confidence.

Joseph lit his own torch from one atop a pillar at the entrance as the light faded. He and Daisy waited in the path while Elsie and Charles walked halfway around the circle to where he would stand watch.

"I must go," she said after the third – then fourth – kiss. "Really Charles, Phyllis doesn't mind that her husband had to leave for a short time, but I can assure you _he_ is anxious to get home!" She sighed, her hand on his chest. "Have a good night. We will have a meal for you when you get home in the morning."

"Sleep well," he said. "Both of you. Slumber like the trees…"

"Don't worry, we won't dance like the goddess all night! It was nice seeing Phyllis, but the walk to the village this afternoon with Alfred was _much_ too hot." Elsie shook her head. "Part of the reason I had us stay later was so Daisy would not have to walk home in the heat."

"You will sleep well tonight. I'll stay awake," Charles smiled. "I've done this many times before."

She reached up, cupping his face in her hand. "Just as long you don't mistake the statue of Eala for someone trying to disturb the sacred shrine!"

Laughing, he kissed her softly. "Unlikely. You know very well if someone wanted to walk here _now_ , I would have no reason to stop them. And in all my years of standing watch, I've only seen three people try to enter when it was forbidden. The first two were a couple looking for a…quiet place. They left rather quickly once they knew they'd be watched," he grinned. "And the third person, well. _She_ didn't seem to care. I had to chase her out!"

Elsie raised an eyebrow. "She must have shocked you. Have you seen her since?"

"Once or twice." They shared a smile, then another kiss, before she walked back around the circle to join the others. Joseph raised his torch in goodbye, while Daisy and Elsie waved. Charles waved back until the torchlight disappeared from view when the path went out of sight.

The stars were out by the time he finished his meal. Standing up again, he breathed deeply the night air. He whistled to himself thinking about the day he had met Elsie. For the rest of his life, he knew he would remember the sight of her in the early light of dawn.

It was close to the new moon, and the night sky seemed inky black against the stars. He guessed it was about the third watch when he caught himself dozing against his crook. He started, and quickly looked around.

The shrine was as quiet as ever.

 _Well_ , he thought ruefully, _I have not gotten as much sleep lately_.

Not that he wanted to change that.

He thought of the flocks, how many ewes, and lambs there were. The price he might expect to get from Harold or other traders in Staithes. He had written to the merchant and told him of his plans to bring the flocks to the seaside town before the harvest moon.

The song he had sung while walking to the shrine occurred to him once more, and he sang under his breath, both to stay awake and to remember the words.

He had sung it to Thomas and Daisy when they were small. His own grandfather had taught it to him when he was very young.

 _Mama had finally relented, after weeks of begging. She would not let him stand watch at the shrine with Grandfather all night, but agreed to take him before dawn._

 _Just so he could see what it was like._

 _She yawned as they walked. He did not. He was too excited._

 _When they walked down the path, she steered him around the pillars where the tall man stood at attention._

" _There you are," he said. He motioned for the small boy to stand next to him._

 _Mama kissed the top of her son's head. "Now mind, Charles. Do whatever he tells you. It is an honor to be here." She smiled at her father and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I will see you both after dawn. You'll be very hungry by then, I'm sure."_

 _The two, the grey-haired man and the small boy, nodded, smiling at each other. Both of them could eat from one end of the house to the other, Papa said. Charles waved at his mother as she walked down the path._

 _Grandfather was still, barely moving his feet. Charles tried to stand at attention, his hands behind his back, but it was hard._

 _As was remaining quiet._

 _He was unaware that he hummed until Grandfather spoke._

" _Do you remember the words to the song, lad? When I taught you?"_

" _Mm hmm," he nodded and began to sing._

' _Lady bright, beautiful light_

 _Dance in the sl-umbering trees_

 _Moon and stars, all the long night_

 _Your grace…um…your grace…'_

 _His voice faded. He didn't see his grandfather smile._

" _Not bad for a boy who will celebrate his fifth Midsummer soon." The deep voice began to sing the lullaby slowly, letting the higher voice of the child to take precedence._

 _The two sang the song until Charles knew the words well. 'Eala, Immortal, Divine' rang amongst the trees._

 _On one of the branches of an elm, sparrows began to chatter. Charles shivered slightly beneath his cloak._

" _Move your feet just a bit," Grandfather said. "Dawn is coming soon. See?" he gestured a little behind them. The outline of Eala's statue was just visible in between the trees behind the circle of pillars, the sky less dark._

" _Grandfather?"_

" _Hmm?"_

" _Does Eala look like the statue?"_

 _The old man sighed. "No one knows. I like to think she does. Sometimes," he smiled, "when it's been the darkest part of the night, and very quiet, I've looked over my shoulder wondering if I'll see her move!"_

 _Charles glanced at the figure of the goddess behind them. "Has it_ _ever_ _?" His eyes were wide. The thought of the statue suddenly moving filled him with terror._

" _No," Grandfather's voice was calm. He shifted his crook from one hand to the other, to place a hand on Charles's head. "But there are times I forget that it's there, and I think someone's trying to enter the shrine!" He leaned over. "It gives me a proper scare at times."_

 _The boy laughed, not believing_ _ **anything**_ _could scare his grandfather._

He smiled at the memory. How patient Grandfather was, answering questions, telling him the sacred stories, teaching him songs and traditions. Soothing his fears.

Once he became a man he understood that fear did not disappear with childhood. He glanced a little behind him to look at the statute.

And then he remembered that it was no longer there.

It had not been there for years.

Not since he was a boy, a few years older, and had stood by the side of the road with his family. Watching a young lady pass by with her entourage.

It was near to Midsummer, he remembered, and the priestesses had insisted the statue at the shrine be removed.

Even if Lady Violet would not actually visit the shrine, or see the statue. Or lack thereof.

Charles didn't know what had happened to it. He supposed the priestesses cleaned it, and sent it elsewhere, to a different shrine.

Grandfather, he recalled with a grin, said the holy women were more offended by the gifts left by the birds on the stone figurine than anything else.

He stood watching the stars for a while, his mind drifting from one thing to the other, when a thought hit him.

How did _Elsie_ know about the statue?

 _She_ _mentioned it to me._

 _Not the other way around._

He had never spoken of it to her, he was sure. There were few people left who would even remember it had once been at the shrine.

Perhaps Violet or Isobel had told her…but neither of them had ever seen it. Maybe the women previously in their position had told them about it – but if so, why would they then tell Elsie about it?

He did not know why, but it bothered him.

Just as the business of a jealous former fiancé bothered him. And how Elsie knew Cassandra. The previous shepherdess, he knew, had never been outside of Robert's kingdom, or Merton. And yet Elsie had said she knew her.

He had not asked his wife about any of it since that evening by the lake. But his curiosity was piqued by her knowing about something she could not possibly know.

* * *

The sun had climbed to its height, the day shimmering in the heat. Elsie pulled strands of hair out of her face as she laid the soaking wet tunics on the rocks to dry. Leaning over the chattering stream, she splashed water on herself.

A swim in the lake sounded wonderful.

She turned to see Charles approach, blinking in the bright sunshine. His face was still creased from sleep.

"Hello there," she smiled, kissing him.

"Mmmf," he mumbled against her lips. She squeezed his arm, her eyes alight.

"You sound as though you're still sleepy. You barely said a word when you came in at dawn, just ate and went to bed." She gestured at a bundle sitting in the shade beneath a skinny tree. "There's bread and cheese, if you like."

"Thank you," he sat down. The bread was soft with a fine crust. The cheese was, as ever, burnt. "I was thinking about something you said yesterday," he began after the food was eaten. He wondered how to proceed, or indeed if he should, but the memory would not leave him alone.

"Oh? What did I say?" She pulled on one of the tunics, making sure it was as flat as possible.

"Something about the statue of Eala. The statue at the shrine," he looked intently at her.

She stood up straight again, running a hand through her hair. "What about it?"

His heart sank. The unease that he had felt the previous night was nothing to the sudden dread he felt.

 _It's as though she has no idea it is no longer there._

 _But surely she knows. She has been to the shrine any number of times since she arrived._

A thought that had taken root in his mind during the watch came to the forefront once more.

"It…" he licked his lips, them being dry. "It isn't at the shrine. Not anymore," he said quietly. "There has not been a statue there since I was young. My eighth summer."

Elsie looked at him in utter confusion. "Isn't it there?"

He did not break his glance. "No."

She put a hand to her mouth, and he saw a wave of different emotions appear on her face. Uncertainty, doubt, understanding. Recognition. She gasped, and a flicker of fear appeared in her eyes.

It did not lessen the weight that had settled in his belly. _Where did she_ _come_ _from?_

 _Far away, she said._

 _How far?_

"I thought," he swallowed, "that perhaps Eala's statue had been sent to another kingdom, to another shrine. That perhaps you knew of it because you had seen it yourself. But…I see that is not the truth of the matter."

"No," she replied in a whisper, "Partly. I _did_ see it. At the shrine here." She hugged her arms as though she had received a sudden chill. He raised his eyebrows.

"So you _had_ been here at some point? When you were small?" His bafflement deepened. He had been certain that she was younger than he, and if that were so, she would have little to no memory of the statue at all.

"I have been here…well, yes and no," she bit her lip, looking off into the distance. His chest tightened.

"'Yes and no'? You do not make any sense," he moved over a little, as she came to sit next to him. She ran a finger over a long-stemmed harebell.

"I mean I was here, but not _here_ ," her face was pink, he thought, and not from the heat.

"I think," he said in as gentle a voice as he could, "you need to explain. I don't mean to press you, but I do want to know. And – you did say that you would tell me where you came from."

She looked up sharply. "Yes, I did." He could tell that she was rattled, and that fact alone made his heart pound. "But…the secrets I have to tell…no one else can _ever_ know. Not Thomas or Daisy. _No one_. For their own safety." She hesitated for a moment, studying the short grass, before meeting his eyes again. "I…I am not sure you will believe me."

Charles laid his hand over her trembling one. "I am your husband. Your secrets are safe with me."

Elsie gave him a tight smile, squeezing his hand.

He thought perhaps it would make it easier if he told her what he guessed. "I think you are someone of far greater importance than you let on," he said, as a robin flew past them. "When I first met you, I was curious, of course. But your explanation then seemed reasonable, and I was not inclined to question you."

It seemed an age since the days when he tried to avoid her.

"But in the time since," he continued, "there have been things that I could not reconcile. Such as your acquaintance with Cassandra, and what you said about _not_ coming from Merton. Or frankly, the entire story about Vincent, and your father. I believed you, when you told me about your engagement," he said quickly at her expression. "But something did not sit right with me."

"I never meant to withhold anything from you, not forever," she murmured. "Honesty matters a great deal to me, as it does to you."

He nodded in agreement. "Then there is the question of your beauty. It is not just me who has noticed it, as you know. Everyone, from the apprentices to the queen, has mentioned it."

The letter which had come from the court with their gifts had been fulsome in its praise of Elsie.

Taking a deep breath, Charles searched for the right words. _Perhaps she will be angry with me._

 _Or laugh._

"You seem to be more than a mere woman," he said softly. "Daisy told me when she first met you, it was as though you had never baked bread in your life. Like you did not have the slightest idea of what to do. I…I was wondering," he cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed. "if…if you were the daughter of noble parents. Unaccustomed to a simpler life. Or," his face reddened further, "if your mother was a nymph, or your father a demi-god."

It sounded ridiculous to him. At the shrine the night before, it was easy to think such things. But in the light of day…

Then again, if any of it were true, it would explain a lot.

She threaded her fingers through his. "Charles," she said, her voice giving him courage to glance up again. "You are not as far from the truth as you think you are."

Raising his eyebrows, he studied her face. There was no amusement or anger there. Her dark eyes gazed into his.

 _He trusts you. Now you must trust him._

"You wonder if I am noble, or if I have the blood of the divine," she ran her thumb over his knuckles. "Both are right. The day I first saw you, it was fitting for you to see me at the shrine. It was built in _my_ honor."

Her heart pounded so hard it was almost painful. She hoped he would understand without her having to speak any plainer. It felt like tempting fate to speak so openly.

He stared at her, uncomprehending. She tried again.

"The shrine was made in the image of my garden at home. The statue, both the one that once stood there, as well as the one now in the temple, _my_ temple…is _my_ image." Charles, who was bent over, straightened up.

"Are-are you saying," he stuttered, "that you are the _goddess!?_ " He seemed to have trouble speaking, his mouth moving without words. "That…that you are… _Eala?_ " The last word was not even whispered, but only mouthed. His eyes were wide and his face drained of color.

"Yes. Yes, I am She." She did not look away from him, holding her breath.

His expression changed, his eyebrows furrowing together, his lips pressing together in a thin line.

"I can believe that you have divine blood, that much seems evident," he spoke quickly, his breath coming faster. "But to say-" he turned his head away.

Her heart sank. "I am telling the truth," she whispered. "You have to believe me."

Anger darkened his eyes, and he pulled his hand from hers. "Do you think," he snapped, "it is _amusing_ to claim to be the goddess? To blaspheme Her name!? It is one thing to violate the sacred shrine, quite another to _claim_ to be the deity!"

It was obvious he was trying to control his temper. She understood his anger at her perceived irreverence, yet felt her own temper rising at his words.

"I would _never_ say it for my own amusement!" she felt stung, wondering if that was what he really thought her capable of.

It was too much. It was all too much. He was dizzy, the heat of the day overwhelming. Getting to his feet, he looked down at her in disbelief. She moved from a sitting position to her knees, one hand on the ground for balance.

Elsie was adamant. That was clear.

 _She will not take it back._

 _But…it's_ _impossible_ _._

He took one step away. Then two. He tripped over a hawthorn bush, stumbled to his feet, then got up again and stormed off.

"Charles!" she called after him as he went down the hill.

He turned slightly, as if struggling whether to turn back, but then continued on.

* * *

The sun had baked the road to a fine dust. It rose with every step he took. Downton lay in the distance, but he did not see it.

Was she _mad?_

It was the only reason that made sense.

And yet, he had never thought her mad before.

But what else could it be? _Why would anyone_ _ **say**_ _that?_

Perhaps she had not always showed the proper respect for Eala, but he never thought her capable of total lunacy!

He did not know if he was more frightened, appalled, or upset. All three battered his mind and raged in his heart.

 _Blasphemous. She is fortunate Eala did not strike her down on the spot!_

 _I would have believed almost anything she told me. Why did she feel the need to lie, or exaggerate who she is?_

 _Does she not trust me? Or when I told her what I thought, did she feel the need to inflate her standing in my eyes, as if I would think her less if she were not of divine blood?_

For he did believe that Elsie was divine, at least in part. He had convinced himself of that before ever speaking with her.

He remembered the dawn, the morning they met. At the shrine. The fog drifting, the sun beginning to break through.

And the woman, his woman, wandering into the shrine, into the forbidden place.

He remembered as though it had happened the day before. How _unafraid_ she was. At the time, he had thought her hopelessly disrespectful.

Now, he hardly knew what to think.

The temple doors gleamed in front of him. He blinked in surprise, not remembering the walk through the village.

There were few people about at that hour. Most everything was hidden in the shade. He pushed on the doors and went inside.

Two temple girls slept against the back wall, below the mural of Eala with the Messenger. The thick stone kept out some, but not all, of the summer heat. Charles pulled on his tunic, the cloth sticking to his skin. He then saw a figure sitting on the bench near the front altar.

"Priestess?"

Isobel started, looking up from the scroll in her hands. "Charles," she greeted him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," he ran a hand through his hair. She read the scroll once more, clearly distracted.

"Not at all," she murmured. With effort, she set it aside. "Can I help you with something?"

"I…" he swallowed, looking towards the statue of Eala. "I am not sure you can, but I am thankful for the offer." Her eyes had drifted back to the scroll. "Can I help _you_?"

"I wish you could," she said. "I admit, this moment is not the best. If you were Cousin Violet, I could use your guidance very much."

"Where is she?" He asked. It was a rare day when she was not at the temple.

"At the hall visiting the family. After Midsummer, you know, things rather slow down." She gestured to the sleeping girls, one of which was snoring. "I was just at the hall myself. She's taking her turn, which is only fair, but I never expected _this_ message today. It only just arrived." A shadow crossed her face.

"What does it say?" the question came out before he could stop himself. He did not think it possible for anything else to shock him. "I don't mean to intrude," he said quickly. "My apologies."

"You are not intruding at all," she reassured him. "Everyone will know soon. It's…" she shook her head in wonder. "a Revelation."

" _What?_ " he cried. "When was the last time one was received? It's been-"

"Ten summers ago, at least," she said. "Before Matthew and I arrived here." She studied the scroll. " _That_ one did not directly include Eala, as this one does."

"Did…did you receive it yourself?" That would explain her astonishment. Revelations were visions, received by either oracles, priests or priestesses. They involved doings of the gods. The last one carried news of Harmony's marriage to the Messenger.

"No," she held up the papyrus. "It was received by a priest of the Fire God, at a temple in Loftus. Five days ago. The message was sent here straightaway, as was fitting."

Charles frowned. "The Fire God? What does he have to do with the Goddess?" He could not imagine two divine beings more different. "He has never appeared in _any_ of the ancient stories with her. Not to my knowledge." He glanced up, his gaze moving over the murals on the walls.

"Not until now," Isobel's voice was very quiet. "She has been promised in marriage, by her father, to the Fire God. To Victor."

If she had said the Revelation was that Eala had transformed into a dragon, she could not have stunned him more. He felt his knees wobble, and made his way over to the bench. Sitting down heavily on the cool stone, he gaped at the statue to their left.

" _Marriage_ ," he whispered. "The Goddess of Love, promised in marriage? To the _Fire God?_ " Part of him was astounded at the sheer wonder of it. Through countless ages of men, She was held as a paragon of beauty, of desire. Of the unattainable female.

Grandfather would not have believed it. He would not have thought it possible.

But then, he mused, it proved again how little mortals really knew of the gods.

"Excuse me," Isobel murmured, getting to her feet, the scroll in her hand. She walked swiftly to the side entrance leading to the garden, and disappeared. Charles was too stunned to notice her exit.

After a long time, he stood up once more and walked to the middle of the room, his fingers on his chin. The statue of Eala stared down at him.

Why the Fire God, Victor? Why marry _him?_

If Eala was promised to Marcas, the God of War, that would at least make some sense. Though their affair had affected the mortal realm badly, there was no arguing in temples or elsewhere that the two held some things in common.

Love and War had had a passionate intensity when they were together. It was ironic that their daughter was the goddess of Peace.

But Victor? Charles shook his head. He did not understand that match at _all_. The Master of Fire was not popular among the gods, if the stories were to be believed. Though he was one of the more practical beings in the divine realm. Maker of many things – armor, swords. A gifted jeweler.

He was most definitely not popular among mortals, either.

Because fire, like its Master, could also be terribly destructive. Dangerous.

Small wonder that few people revered Him. Fervent adherents of the God of War, but only while war raged. Merchants of jewels. Blacksmiths.

 _Blacksmiths._

 _Elsie said her father promised her to a blacksmith. That he is jealous._

 _She is terrified of fire…_

"No," he raised his hands, resting them on his head. " _No_. It…it _cannot_ be." His eyes fell on the statue once more, the silent reminder of the inner turmoil that drove him to the temple in the first place.

For the first time, he studied it not as a man contemplating the divine, but as a sculptor would, to see if his work portrayed a likeness accurately.

Some features were exaggerated, or slightly wrong. But others caused his heart to beat out of rhythm. The straight nose, the curve of her lips, the high cheekbones. The way her hand rested on her hip.

As a boy, the thought of the statue of Eala moving had terrified him. As a man, it boggled his mind that the woman he had held in his arms, had loved, had _wed_ , so closely resembled the divine image.

And that it was only now that his eyes were opened.

 _I think you knew it the first time you saw her._

He clung to pieces, to vestiges of facts and excuses, to anything that might free him of the terrible reality. Maybe her father was just a stubborn man, with a strong will. Maybe there was just a jealous blacksmith in Loftus, named Vincent, promised before to Elsie.

"… _I was here, but not here." From far away, she said._

The truth was literally staring him in the face.

 _I thought her mad. Or a liar._

 _My heart knew better. She is not a lunatic. And she is not lying now._

It was one thing for his wife to know of a long-forgotten statue of the goddess. That could be explained.

But there was no way she could have known about the Revelation. Isobel had just received the message from Loftus. Unless.

Unless she _was_ telling the truth.

 _If she is Eala, she would never have to fear divine punishment for claiming to be so._

The stone floor felt cold against his knees. He looked down, unaware that his legs had even failed him.

His hands shook like Grandfather's, when the old man had the palsy. Before he died.

Charles had never felt terror so extreme, cold sweat causing him to shiver despite the heat of the day.

 _A goddess._ _ **The**_ _Goddess. Eala. I have lain with the divine. I, a mortal._

 _How am I not_ _dead_ _? Or turned to a worm? Or dust? How is it possible that the God of the Sky, the King of all the gods, does not know about me?_

A cry, somewhere between a groan and a muffled shriek, echoed in the quiet room. One of the sleeping girls blinked and sat up. Charles clamped a hand over his own mouth. He felt a bead of sweat run off his temple.

 _Daisy. And Thomas._

 _It is not just me that is in terrible danger. They are as well._

 _Would they be spared from the wrath of the gods? Not just from the God of Thunder. From Victor!?_

His breaths came in short bursts at the thought of the Fire God attacking his children. He sat on the floor, his head bowed almost between his knees.

 _Would anyone be spared? No._

 _Their retribution will fall on_ _ **all**_ _of us._

Elsie's voice-he could not think of her as Eala, not in human form- came to him once again. _"The secrets I have to tell…_ _ **no one**_ _can ever know."_

Did she say that to protect the children? Why tell _him_ , then? He was not sure he would ever have the strength to stand up again, much less live his life as if it were ordinary.

To go back to the woman, the _goddess_ , in his home.

How could he ever look at her again?

* * *

The sun had long since set and the night was far gone. Elsie sat in the meadow with the flocks, feeling drained. Anger, regret, sorrow still gnawed at her. Worry had overshadowed most of it.

She had not seen Charles since he had walked away from her. Disbelieving. She did not know what to make of his continued disappearance. Did he still think her a liar? Or mad?

Or what if he _believed_ her? And spoke with the priestesses? What would they say?

They had encouraged her to tell him the truth, which was her natural inclination, despite her earlier fears. But she had no idea how he would react to the spectacular knowledge.

Was he angry? Did he despise her? Did he think he was a mere plaything for her own pleasure, to be discarded when she tired of him?

 _Never._

 _I would never do that. Not to him._

 _I love him._

She sighed, a slight breeze cooling her face. Brushing her hair away, her fingers touched wetness. She gasped, trying to hold back her tears. Then gave in to them.

Sobbing, she was insensible to everything around her until she heard a low whimper that was not her own.

"Remme," she whispered as the dog approached her, laying down next to her. Her companion's warmth was exactly what she needed. She ran her hand over her head, her ears, her broad back. Remme licked her other hand, making her smile. "Could you find him?" She lifted part of the cloak from her shoulder. It carried mostly her scent, but also some of his.

The dog sniffed the cloak for a moment, then the air. She shot away into the dark right away. Elsie did not have to wait long until she returned.

"Home?" she asked Remme, surprised. "He's there?" She let out a long breath in relief. "Thank you," she whispered, her hand on the dog's head. Her furry friend licked her face before going to join Frea next to the quiet flock.

It seemed like an interminable wait until Alfred came to take over the watch. When he did, she fairly flew home.

It was more her daughter's gift to speak with dogs, but the message had been clear enough to her. She opened the door to the hut and immediately made out the dark shape of Charles, still clothed in his tunic, fast asleep on the sheepskin.

As always, no fire burned. He was deep in sleep. Yet when she got closer, he twitched suddenly, and she stopped, not wanting to wake him. When his head fell further against his arm, she gingerly sat down next to him.

She covered his legs with the cloak. Laying down, she was careful not to touch him. It was not just so that she would not disturb his sleep.

Whatever he thought of her, it was doubtful he would crave her touch. Tears pooled in her eyes.

She was a goddess, and capable of having anyone she wanted.

But she only wanted him.

Whether he would ever want her again, she did not know.


	25. The Woman Within

**A/N: I do intend to respond to all of your lovely reviews, providing the website behaves itself. *cough, cough*. I love all of your reviews, comments, reblogs, etc. They really do mean everything to me. Thank you!**

 **I had a conversation earlier this week that made me want to tell you all who have stuck with this story so far - this is a long story. A very long story. In fact, we are not to the halfway point yet. So there's your warning. I hope I haven't scared any of you off.**

 **This chapter is almost entirely Chelsie. I'll be getting back to other people (mostly Thomas) soon. And no, I haven't forgotten about certain people lurking about, though you probably wished I would.**

 **Please leave a review if you have time! They give me life!**

* * *

Charles woke from a sound sleep. From the little light coming through the window, he saw it was very early morning. Low grey clouds hung in the sky.

A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.

Sitting up, he rubbed his face, feeling stubble on his chin. He had left the temple the afternoon before, after waiting for Isobel for a long time.

One of the temple girls had sent him away. The priestess was indisposed, he was told. It made him wonder why she had told him of the Revelation. He could think of no reason other than shock.

He had wandered for a long time, walking aimlessly to calm himself. He had returned home expecting to find Elsie there.

Instead, when he had reached the hut at dusk, it was empty. A meal was prepared, and laid out as if she had waited for him.

Guilt made eating difficult.

It had been his turn to take the first watch of the night, so he had then gone to the meadow. But the sight of Elsie with the flock, made his terror return with a vengeance. He had run home, hoping she had not seen him.

Sleep did not come soon, and when it did, his dreams were haunted by visions of lightning striking the temple, the hut ablaze with his children inside. Being chased by a figure of fire.

The last dream he had before waking was quieter, though no less eerie. He was surrounded by fog. Whether he searched for something, or something searched for _him_ , he did not know. The sound of a woman crying kept him moving, calling out for an answer.

He sighed and stretched, feeling stiff. It was strange waking without feeling rested. Equally strange to wake with his tunic still on, though the day was a little cooler with the coming of rain.

Elsie lay nearby out of arm's reach. Her back was to him, and her shoulders rose and fell with her deep breathing. Charles did not know what to think.

Everything flooded through his mind from the day before – her honesty, the shock of comprehending the truth, the utter terror of her divinity, and the danger that came with it. What occurred to him then, that had eluded him before, was the candor she displayed.

" _Yes, I am She."_

 _She trusted you. As her husband._

But why was _he_ her husband? A mix of dread and anger surged through him. He picked up the blue cloak still spread across his legs. The cloak that had once been his before he gave it to her. He threw it aside and stood up.

None of it made sense.

Did she think this was all a game? To play at being a mortal, pretending to be his wife? To see how they lived?

 _Maybe it is true. We are merely toys to be used by the gods. To do with us whatever they wish._

Charles raked his hands through his hair. The ache in his chest sharpened, as though he had been stabbed with a spear.

He had married Elsie with the full intention of keeping his vows. But what did they mean to _her_? Every word, every gesture, every kiss, every act of love between them since their marriage began ran through his mind.

Had she merely seduced him at Midsummer? No, the impetus to make her his wife had been _his_ idea. Maybe.

Or maybe not.

 _She could have tricked me into it._

He dismissed the notion immediately. Why trick him into marrying her when she was already betrothed? It was not worth the risk, surely.

The sight of her naked form in the moonlight on their wedding night. _She called_ _me_ _beautiful._

 _Me._

 _Next to her? Rubbish!_

 _She doubtless says that to everyone she's bedded._

The thought that she had spoken the words to others before nearly made him ill. He turned abruptly, facing toward the window once more. Elsie lay in front of him, still in slumber.

The sharp edge of his anger melted away. A line was visible between her eyes, dried tearstains on her cheeks.

Why did she weep, if she was only using him for pleasure? His head ached, joining his heart. Picking up the cloak, he covered her with it.

He left a message on a scrap of papyrus before going to the meadow. The air seemed to be holding its breath, the clouds lurking overhead. His sheepdog Ve seemed skittish, whining, getting up, and circling the flock several times.

When the rain did come later in the morning, it was a relief. Though not to his troubled mind.

Elsie – Eala - was still his wife. His _wife_.

No matter what she thought, or did, or really felt. _He_ would be true to his vows.

No matter what.

 _I did not think I would have a marriage, a life like this._

 _Not again._

In a way it was a little like his union with Alice.

 _It was an ordinary day, like most others. Thomas had gone to the lake with old Eric, one of the shepherds who had worked for Charles's father. The little boy had caught five fish._

" _Well done, lad!" he pulled his son into a hug, kissing the top of his head. Alice gave Thomas a warm smile. Her pale blue eyes sparkled._

" _He's a born fisherman." She gestured to the low table._

 _"That he is," he agreed._

 _Thomas wiggled out of his father's embrace. "Papa, we saved some for you! The two biggest ones!"_

" _Oh, thank you," Charles said, sitting down. Daisy gurgled from her basket, waving her hands. He leaned over and kissed her._

 _While he ate, Thomas chattered like a magpie about the fish, about chasing a deer across the meadow, about Eric letting him carry his crook._

" _You've been quite busy," Charles said when he had a chance, grinning. He glanced at Alice, but she was not looking, intent instead on sewing a patch onto Thomas's tunic._

 _He told himself as the evening descended that he was reaching, searching for a problem that did not exist._

 _And yet contentment eluded him._

 _The children were settled for the night, the fire burned low. Lighting the candles, he began the nightly prayers. First to the God of the Sky, then to the others._

 _Eala, as ever, received his devotions last. It was not due to a lack of respect. He had had an affinity for the Goddess of Love since he was a youth, and preferred to end his prayers to her._

 _He felt (though he did not, of course, know for certain) that she_ listened _to him. That she would always listen._

 _When he prayed to her it was like talking to a friend._

" _Divine Lady," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. Alice was on the other side of the curtain, sweeping out the hut. "Thank you for the beauty that surrounds us, the children you have given us. My lovely wife. You have given me so much…" he trailed off, not finding words. He put a hand to his lips as he gazed at the figurine on the altar. She carried a rose._

 _Behind him, he heard Alice sweep out the door, then shut it. He knew she was going to the well to get water._

 _He sighed. "I don't want to sound ungrateful. Thomas and Daisy are beautiful, and strong, and Alice is a fine woman. Any man would be fortunate to have her, and you meant her for me. But," he bit his lip. "I can't help feeling as though there could be more between us." The figurine of Eala sat as smoke curled around it from the candle._

" _She is content with the children, our home, the flocks. Yet we hardly speak of anything else."_

 _Looking down, he tugged on the edge of the sheepskin, his hands on his knees. "Lately I've wondered if we are as close as we will ever be. I have told her I would like her to be more open with me. And she said in all honesty, that she thought she_ _had_ _been open, sharing herself with me. Maybe she has. Maybe I seek something in her that is not there."_

" _Or perhaps_ I _am lacking something. Have I truly shared every part of myself with her? With anyone?" A small smile formed on his lips. "Alice and Richard have told me, in different ways, that you have more of me than either of them. If both my wife and my friend agree, then who am I to argue? I think they are right. In a way," he scratched his ear. "But I am who I am. I have been devoted to you since I was young, and I am not about to stop now. I know_ you _won't abandon me."_

 _Long-held pain caused tears to well in his eyes. His older sister, Daisy, who never got to meet her namesake. His parents who died before he was married._

" _Help me," he whispered, "help me, Beautiful Lady, to not be afraid to reveal myself wholly to my family and friends. To show my love. You who are Love, guide me."_

He had tried to be more open with Alice, to not hold back his own thoughts and fears. They had grown closer; he loved her, and had never doubted her love for him. Yet he resigned himself to feeling that they did not match, that this was the best that he could hope for.

His life with her was not a bad one.

Her death had ended any hope for a deeper bond. After, it was easier to close himself off. He knew Daisy, and especially Thomas, had suffered from his reticence. It was something that gnawed at his conscience.

The rain had receded to a fine mist. He laughed rather bitterly, without mirth, his thoughts returning to Elsie. Now he was yoked to someone who would never die. And who understood him better than _anyone_.

That was part of the terror he felt. He had never felt so exposed, his entire being laid bare. The knowledge that he would never fully know her as she did him hurt.

Their marriage would never be equal. _Had_ never been equal.

And, he realized, feeling as though someone had punched him, prayers were no longer any comfort to him.

How could he kneel in front of the altar and talk to the Goddess? Knowing…she was there? Terror, mortification, and a strong mixture of injured pride made him groan aloud.

He stared unseeing at the meadow. The grey raiment of the mist. A movement over the crest of the hill drew his attention.

Elsie.

She wore the cloak, no doubt as a shield against the damp. As she approached him, he felt his heartbeat quicken, his palms begin to sweat, his breath coming short.

It all seemed so clear. Even in the dull light of the morning, the rain catching strands of her hair and plastering them against her face, she was a goddess. There was not a glow about her as the stories described, but she was perfect as no woman had ever been. Or ever would be.

He had never felt more uncomfortable in his life. Or more flawed. Unable to look her in the face, he watched her feet.

"Good morning, Charles." The soft caress of her voice speaking his name caused his heart to skip.

He nodded in reply, speech utterly failing him.

"Are you hungry?"

His belly rumbled in response. He wondered at his own body betraying him, yet could not keep a grin from his mouth. _Of course you are._

They sat beneath the ash tree, not speaking as they ate bread.

He wanted to speak and felt he should. But what could he possibly say to her? How was he supposed to treat her? As the Goddess? That was his natural inclination. But she was his _wife_. His mate.

"I…suppose you know," she said when he had finished. He swallowed the last bite, feeling every bit of it go down his throat. "I am sorry it is such a shock, but I _had_ to tell you. I could not keep such a secret, not from you…" her voice trailed off.

His eyes had remained fixed on the ground. When her speech failed, though, he looked up at her. At her face.

Her teeth biting her lip, her skin pale, unshed tears desperately clinging to her eyes. The shadows underneath them.

Instinctively, he reached out and touched her knee. "Don't…" He did not know what he meant to say, or what he wanted to say.

Elsie gasped, and tears flowed down her face. She wiped them off, trying to regain her breath. "Where did you go yesterday? I worried when you didn't come home."

"Nowhere," he said, a little surprised she did not know where he had gone, "I just wandered for a long time. I was at the temple a little while. Isobel was there." The memory of the Revelation made him take his hand from her.

"Isobel? What did she say?" she wondered what the priestess had said, what advice she had given.

"Nothing to me. I didn't tell her why I was there," he pressed his lips together, studying the wet grass. "She had just received a message of a Revelation. From Loftus," he stopped, thinking she could likely guess what it was.

She did. Straightening up, she pressed her hand against her forehead. "That was fast," she murmured, her eyes closed. "Sometimes it is _years_ before news of the Hall reaches here. Victor must be very proud."

Her tone sounded bitter.

To hear her speak so casually staggered him. Of the Divine Halls, the mere flinging out of the Fire God's name! _But then, it is only a place to her, like my home is to me. And the gods are her family. Friends. Companions._

He let out a breath he didn't know he held. "Does it surprise you? That he would be?"

She turned, a sharp glance in his direction. "Coming from him, yes. He takes pride in the work of his hands, the beauty of the things he has made. He sees little else."

"You do not think he would be affected by _you?_ " Charles was incredulous.

"Only in terms of how the others will see him," she half-snorted, pushing her hood back. "The god who wed the mighty Eala! The greatest jewel in the heavens and earth! I am little more to him," she said, "than another trinket would be to Robert, to set on his belt."

He stared at her, uncomprehending. "Surely not." He could not believe it. _How could she be seen only as an adornment? She is so much more than that!_

His remark clearly stoked her ire. She got to her feet, her hands on her hips, facing away from him. " _Yes_ ," she hissed, "that is how he sees me! That is how my father sees me! As a pawn, a prize to be given! You don't understand," she turned to meet his eyes. "I came here to learn from mortals how to live without love. To grieve my fate. There will be _no_ end to it." Sadness and not a little hint of anger flashed in the depths of her eyes. "Do not presume to know what the gods think. What you know is a drop of water in the sea!"

Her admonition hammered into his mind the futility of their marriage, if that was what it was. He, a drop of water. She, the sea. He was a speck of dirt. She was a towering mountain.

Anger coursed through him. He clenched his fists looking up at her, as thunder rumbled again in the distance. "Thank you for the reminder of my inferiority," he snapped. At that moment, if she had struck him down he would not have cared. His hurt was an open wound. "No doubt your desire to marry me was simply for your own amusement."

Something flickered in her eyes. "Charles, I-"

He gave her an exaggerated bow of his head. "Let me watch the flock in peace. I am surprised you do it – you likely find it beneath your _dignity_."

He would not be swayed. She stood still for a moment, then slowly turned and walked back across the meadow, not bothering to pull her hood up when the rain began again.

* * *

It was all wrong.

And she had not the first idea of how to fix it.

It was her fault he was angry, she knew. That moment in the meadow haunted her for days.

 _What were you_ _thinking_ _?_

The reality of Victor and her father had so angered her she had forgotten almost everything else. When Charles contradicted her, her first instinct was to assert herself.

As was right. Next to her, a goddess, what was he? He, a mortal, knew little of the gods.

But what he said, the hurt he displayed, brought the truth to her.

He was her husband.

And in that moment, she was a goddess, when she should have been a wife. The goddess was not what he needed then. She should have corrected him, absolutely, but with the words she spoke, it was like stamping on his face.

It was no surprise he said nothing to her unless he had to.

Sometimes she raged to herself at his stubbornness, especially after she tried to apologize for insulting him. She cleaned his new cloak, scrubbing out the stains. Worked diligently on baking the bread. She left the finest loaves for him with honey.

He ignored her, saying nothing.

How did he not see her efforts? And why did _he_ not apologize for leaving and worrying her? She could not fully blame him for not believing her, but she did blame him for his disrespect. Not towards her divinity, but towards her as his wife.

Of all men, she thought he would have taken his vows seriously.

Other times, she discerned his fear. His reluctance to be in the hut at the same time. His choosing to walk by the lake instead of sitting with her.

She no longer heard his voice in prayer, either. It was not a full surprise. No doubt he was all too aware of how much she knew of him.

Sometimes she would hear him call for her, for the goddess, but his voice would stop abruptly.

It signaled his distance from her, in more ways than one.

When they did sleep at the same time, they laid not touching, their backs to each other.

She missed him, her husband.

After she came back from watching the flock one hot morning, there was a large basin of cold water sitting in the hut. She knew the water came from the spring further up from the meadow, nearer its source. It was no small feat to haul water that far.

Another evening, she found her crook woven with pink roses, carefully snipped.

That night under the ash tree she cried. It was his way of asking her pardon. But why could he not just say so? He was not terrified of her _all_ the time. She fingered the soft petals gently, and shook her head.

 _What am I going to_ do _with this man?_

 _This gentle, infuriating, kind, frustrating curmudgeon of a man._

They were forced by circumstances to portray a united couple when Daisy came home. She became aware of the tension between them almost immediately.

"Did you and Papa have a fight?" she asked the next morning as they made bread. Her eyes never left Elsie.

"No," Elsie replied, her hands pressing into the dough with perhaps a touch more force than necessary. She raised her eyebrows at her daughter's expression. "We had a misunderstanding. That's all."

"He can be very stubborn," the girl frowned. "I'll talk to him, make him apologize for whatever he did."

"We are both stubborn," Elsie said. "But the blame _this_ time is mine. We will forgive each other, not to worry."

 _If we can ever talk to each other again._

 _We must._

* * *

He didn't want to admit it, but he missed her.

 _Is that even proper? To miss her as my wife?_

Whether it was, or was not, he did. Especially at night. The feel of her in his arms.

He missed saying his prayers to Eala, too. There were times he would be watching the flocks, or walking by the lake, or lying awake and he would begin talking to her. He caught himself, and stopped before revealing his inner thoughts.

Sitting by the well one evening, he finished his meal, brushing the crumbs of bread off his fingers. Having Daisy home for a few days had been wonderful.

He didn't know what they would do when Thomas came home. He knew his son was not happy with the marriage, and he rather dreaded seeing his self-satisfied smile. Charles wanted to talk to Elsie about it, but they had not really spoken since that day in the meadow.

She walked towards the hut, weary despite not having moved much all afternoon. _It's too hot. At least I don't wear a thick woolly cover like the sheep!_

She saw Charles sitting by the well. To her surprise, he looked up and gestured at the bundle beside him. "Do you mind joining me?"

"Not at all," she sat next to him but not too close. As she ate, he sat quietly, his hands on his knees.

 _This is ridiculous_ , he thought. _Say something!_

Nothing came to mind that did not sound stupid. Or desperate. Or utterly inadequate. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. In the orange glow of the afternoon, her skin was flushed, almost red in places. Strands of her hair stuck to her temple.

Still, she was absolutely striking.

He let out a long breath. "At first I felt almost nothing but fear," he began. "The thought of the goddess, _you_ -" it felt horribly awkward, "-in mortal form, speaking with me, knowing everything about me. And then knowing what we've done-" his voice caught, redness creeping into his own face, "our marriage…what it meant to Daisy and Thomas, my fear for them, for everyone here…I was angry. _So_ angry. I thought you would probably tell me I had no right to be, that any man would be happy to be your lover, no matter the risk-"

"You have every right to be angry," she said, facing him. "To fear for the lives of your children, yourself, your friends. But I'm telling the truth when I say I did not set out from the Hall to place you all in danger. I am not wholly vain." She wiped her mouth. "I was once, but no more."

He swallowed, folding his hands together. He had ceased to be cynical when it came to her motives, but it was good hearing it from her. "I know," he said softly. "I believe you. When I thought about it, there were too many things that spoke of something else. You helped carry the burden of tending the flocks. You never shirked the watch. You saved Old Sally's lamb. The effort is not diminished," he emphasized, "because I now know you would not have been hurt." His eyes were soft. "You did not have to save it at all. But you did. You do not have to cherish my daughter as your own. But you do. You do not have to think well of my son, but you do. You treat my apprentices, and everyone you meet, with respect."

Elsie thought of several things to say, but sensed Charles was not finished.

"You married me," he said, "and that is what I cannot understand. If I could just-" he ran a hand through his hair in frustration- "-know _why_ you did it, maybe I would understand. And we could go on. In some way. Not," a small smile turned up the corner of his mouth, "that I will _ever_ forget who you are."

"I would not expect you to," she whispered. To have him talk to her again was more refreshing than cold water on a hot day. "But you see…" she licked her lips. "it is who I am, that maybe can help you understand."

"How so?" he asked. "I have not said any prayers lately. Is that what you mean?"

"No," she said, her voice firm. "Although it would be nice for you to confide in me as you have done for so long, that is not what I was referring to."

"Then what?" There was no anger in his voice, only curiosity. She ran a hand through her own hair, tossing it over her shoulder. A blush formed on her face.

"I…can't tell you face to face." She had been thinking about it for days. "May I move closer to you?"

He laughed. The sound tugged at her heart. "You are the Goddess of Love, and you ask me _that?_ What could you possibly say that you cannot tell me to my face?"

"May I?" she persisted. Still laughing, he nodded. She scooted over on the ground from being next to him, until she was in front of him. "Closer than this, Charles?"

He suddenly knew what she wanted to do. "Yes," he murmured. She backed up until her back was against his chest. He leaned against the well, as far back as he could. It was not that the sensation was a bad one, it was simply that her nearness made it so very difficult for him to think about anything else.

"You're pulling up the grass," she said. He looked down and opened his hands, letting the green blades fall onto the ground. Sighing, she leaned against him. "Would you put your arms around me? Please."

He did so, half in joy at the feel of her, and half in terror that a hole would open up, swallowing him. He rested his hands against her belly.

"I never had to ask you before."

"I didn't know who you were before," he said into her hair. He resisted for a heartbeat, then gave in. He kissed her on the head. "That is what you were talking about? Who you are?"

"Yes," she said, sounding slightly breathless. "Maybe it would be easier to explain this way. Did you know that every woman has a little bit of me inside them?"

"A bit of you? I didn't know that," he replied. "Is that a secret the priestesses keep?" He tightened his arms around her a little. _She fits so well here._

"Only from men," she laughed. "Every girl, when they go to the temple to present themselves as women, is told it during the ritual."

"So Daisy knows," he said, wondering what else his daughter knew that he did not. Elsie nodded.

"Daisy knows. _Every_ woman has a bit of me, you see. A bit of goddess. That which gives them beauty, and love." She turned her head slightly. "But I never thought it went the other way."

The sound of her laughter softened his heart. He kissed her cheek. Then he ghosted his lips to her jawline and pulled back her hair to find that spot on her neck, below her ear.

 _If I am to be punished for this, I may as well enjoy myself._

"Charles," she said reproachfully, turning to look at him. His eyes were wide, innocent. Except for the gleam, and the little grin that played at the corner of his mouth. "The first time I saw you, I didn't understand why my reaction to you was so strong."

He wagged his eyebrows at her. "It was my natural charisma, of course." Dropping his head, he kissed her shoulder, smiling when he heard her sigh.

She touched his forehead, her fingers pulling his face up to look at her. Her thumb tracing his mouth. "Partly," her face took on an expression of wonder. "You brought out the woman in me," she whispered. "A part of me that was so hidden even _I_ was not aware it was there. Until you."

He sat up further, his attention fixed.

"I have forever been a goddess," she continued. "To everyone. To my family, my friends, to mortals, and yes, to my lovers. And I always will be only that to them. But _you_ ," she stroked his temple, running her fingers over his ears, "you see all of me. You always have. The goddess, the lover, the woman. I am not only part of myself with you," her voice caught, " _all_ of me is present with you."

He struggled for breath. "You make it sound like _I_ brought something to you." _As if I was equal._

"You did. I married you because there has never been anyone who sees me like you do." She rested a hand on his chest. "I am immortal, a goddess. Giver of Love, Beauty, Fertility. I am a lover," a wicked gleam appeared in her eye, making him groan. Her expression grew serious. "But I am your wife. Your mate. Your woman. And as long as you live, that is what I will be."

There was nothing he could say that could express his joy. He brought his mouth to hers and they kissed.

Once was not enough.

She turned around to face him, her arms around his broad shoulders. They kissed again, he opening his mouth to taste her.

Nothing, _nothing_ , had ever felt so good. His hand on her back, pressing her closer; the other, in her hair. His mouth on hers. She opened her legs to wrap them around him, her hands on the sides of his face.

"I love you," he whispered in between ever-more heated kisses. Both of them gasping for breath. "I love you, El-what should I call you? Elsie? Or Eala?"

Her eyes were as dark as the midnight blue of the night sky, even as the evening glowed around them. "Call me Elsie," she breathed. "When you resume your prayers, present them to Eala."

"I don't think I will pray tonight," he gasped, his forehead against hers. "Maybe tomorrow. Will the goddess forgive me?"

She kissed him slowly, lingering, before pulling away from him. "She will. If you insisted on piety this evening, she would certainly understand…but your wife would have a hard time forgiving you." He pulled her hands from his face and drew them to his chest.

"Will you forgive me for ignoring you?" he asked. "For being angry and not speaking to you? I am sorry for that," he tilted his head, his eyes looking down.

"Yes," she curved her fingers a little, feeling his heartbeat beneath them. "Will you forgive me for not telling you sooner? And for forgetting that I am your wife first? I am sorry I spoke to you in anger."

He gazed at her for a long moment. "Yes, of course I will." He leaned closer, his head bent over hers. "I always will. Because that is what husbands-" he kissed her gently, "and wives-" his lips caressed the tip of her nose, "do."

They shared another kiss.

"I love you, Elsie," he murmured. For the first time in days, he felt happy. Deliriously, wildly, happy.

She got up, holding his hands as he stood. "And I you," she said quietly. "Now I don't mean to force you to do anything against your will," she let go of his hands and wound her arms around his waist, pulling at the belt there, "but your wife wants you, your mate craves your touch, and your woman absolutely aches for you."

That was true. The ache for him, her man, which had lain dormant for several days, nestled itself in her belly and spread to the rest of her.

He rested his hands on her hips. "And what of the goddess?"

The most seductive smile he had ever seen appeared on her face. "Oh, she's inside."

The husband, mate and man in him were thrilled.

As the light faded from day into night, they moved together. Her arms flung above her head, she cried out his name over and over. His scent, his touch, his voice intoxicated her.

Their shared pleasure was sweeter than it had ever been.

He reveled in the feel of her against him, the two of them in symmetry. The way she kissed him deeply, then whispered for him to come to her once more, were the most arousing taste, sight and sounds he had ever heard.

Outside the stars came out.

She succumbed to sleep before he did. But he was glad, because it gave him a chance to hold her in his arms and drink her in.

His lover, his mate, his woman, his wife.

His Elsie.


	26. Nerves

**A/N: A short (for me) chapter. There's a lot more to say, but I really wanted to post a chapter tonight for Reasons. And because my brain keeps thinking of things to say, I wanted to do the rest of it justice later.**

 **This is more of an in-between chapter. Please leave a review, if you have time. I do love them so!**

 **And all of you, of course! :)**

* * *

It was very dark, the sky only just turning from night to the faint beginnings of day, when they left the king's hall. Edward carried the torch.

Thomas stumbled beside him, still half-asleep. His mate touched his shoulder after they crossed the bridge.

"You are better than most at staying on your feet at the _end_ of a long day," he smiled. "But you are most certainly _not_ a lover of the morning."

"Usually I'm still asleep now," Thomas growled, feeling as though his head would split in two. "How can you be awake as if it's midday? I never should have agreed to this," he ran his fingers through his hair, out of his eyes. "It would've been better to stay, have a nice long sleep for a change," he grumbled. Anna yawned on Edward's other side.

"Don't be silly, you haven't seen your family in ages," she reminded him. Even in the dim light, her eyes looked puffy. She yawned again, holding her hand to her mouth. Her breath shuddered. "Besides, D-Daisy would never forgive you once she found out the king and queen gave us leave and you didn't take it."

"I suppose you would have told her?" Thomas stifled a yawn of his own. "Some friend you are- _ow!_ "

Sybil punched him on his left shoulder. "She knows what you mean to your sister, as do I," she smiled cheekily at his glare. "If Anna wouldn't have told Daisy, _I_ would have."

Edward laughed. "You are no match for these two, my man," he put an affectionate arm around Thomas, who only rolled his eyes.

As they walked on the sky lightened. Anna perked up when birds began singing, and the roof of Eala's temple became visible in the distance. By the time dawn broke, they had reached Downton.

Richard smiled at them, passing them going the other way, lines visible on his face.

"Visiting for the day?" he asked. "Thank the gods for the rain – it's been cooler these last few days, not so hot."

"Yes," Anna replied, stopping. The others came to a halt. "Are you on your way home?"

The healer nodded. "Well, first to the temple to get Ivy, then home," he explained. "I thought about letting her stay in the hut alone. I know the king says we are safe now, but, well…" he trailed off, his meaning clear.

Thomas kept his eyes on the ground, pretending to straighten his tunic. As much as he was glad he had helped bring some comfort to Ethel and Lavinia, his guilt over the incident had not completely gone away. He looked up when Richard spoke to him.

"Your family will be delighted to see you, Thomas," he continued. "All of them."

Before Thomas could answer, Edward nonchalantly reached over and gripped his wrist. He simply nodded at the older man, biting his tongue to keep from blurting out a snide comment.

"We won't keep you from your rest," Anna said. "Please give Ivy our greetings."

They arrived at the wheelwright's house shortly after leaving Richard. Daisy shrieked in excitement when Bill opened the door, flying into Thomas's arms before he had a chance to block her. Or to brace himself.

"You-you've grown," he said, trying to keep his balance. _Has it really been only a few weeks?_ The top of his little sister's head was almost above his nose. "Phyllis must be feeding you well."

"My father-in-law and Joseph have done more than their share of the baking lately," Phyllis smiled as Anna gave her a warm hug. "As have Elsie, and Daisy herself!"

To Thomas's relief, his friend looked well. A little pale perhaps, but her dark eyes sparkled as he had never seen them shine before. He ignored the comment about Elsie, choosing only to say, "Well, Daisy _is_ an excellent baker."

Behind the house, Joseph cut barrel staves, while Bill carded wool, sitting in the shade. They stopped what they were doing to greet the visitors.

"Doesn't my wife look beautiful?" Joseph asked, beaming.

"Yes," Thomas, Daisy, Sybil and Edward chorused together. Anna was talking with Bill. Phyllis looked down, a blush spreading over her face. Joseph took her hand.

" _See?_ I _told_ you. She wouldn't believe me," he told the others. "Said she looked a fright-"

"Well, believe us," Anna shared a grin with Bill.

"You all are flatterers!" Phyllis protested, but she did not look upset at all. Anna asked how she was feeling, and they launched into a conversation.

In the middle of everyone laughing at one of Phyllis's stories about strange food cravings, Sybil suddenly jerked her head to the right.

 _No. It couldn't be…_

"Is everything all right?" a soft voice said as the raucous sound of the group continued. Bill looked at her with concern.

"Yes…" she said, her voice uncertain. She glanced up again, sniffing the air. Joseph's father nodded.

"Ah, yes, the wind must be blowing this direction," he said. "We've been smelling it for a while. It didn't help my daughter much in the early days, I'm sure you understand," he scratched the side of his face. "When the wind blows from the west a bit, we can smell the forge from here. The burning scent, you know. There's a spring close by it that reeks. At least the wind doesn't blow _all_ the time. And not always from the west."

"You noticed the smell," Phyllis said, wrinkling her nose. "I'm glad I can stand it now, but ooh…" she covered her mouth. "Sulfur, it's like rotten eggs. The _worst_. I am so glad you don't work at the forge anymore," she said to her husband, "otherwise you'd smell like that all the time!"

"I don't know how John stands it," Joseph said. "'Course, he's likely used to it by now." He gave Anna a wide grin. " _You_ will have to live with it, if the blacksmith ever gets the courage to offer himself to you."

The blonde woman pale face turned pink as the others laughed. "There are worse things to live with," Edward told her. "The smell of fish is _horrible_."

Sybil laughed with Thomas. Surely she was overreacting. Tom and the others were keeping a close watch. And there were springs that smelled like sulfur in many places.

It did not mean that Victor was nearby.

* * *

Charles woke while it was still dark. He laid awake, listening to the sound of Elsie breathing, her hands holding his arms around her.

 _Thomas will be home today. My boy will be here today._

 _Our_ _boy._

He tried to go back to sleep, but his mind would not let him.

What would Thomas say? Or do? His belly churned. For once it was not hunger, but nerves.

And it was not just Thomas. One of the friends he brought with him was Sybil.

Charles had met her before, of course, but then he thought she was simply another servant. A nice girl.

He knew better now.

 _I can cope with one goddess in the house, but two?_

Elsie had assured him that Harmony was true to her name. "She is the sweetest spirit you will ever know, and I don't just say that because she's mine," she had said the day before. "She is quite strong, but her strength is not shown openly. It is more subtle. She will want to put _you_ at ease, to make _you_ comfortable," she told him. "That is her nature – to bring peace to mortals."

Her description had calmed him. But he was still nervous to meet her. It was not Sybil's divinity that unsettled him, but rather the simple fact that she was Elsie's daughter.

 _What if she doesn't like me? What if she thinks her mother has made a terrible mistake?_

Gently easing his wife from his arms, he got up, and dressed. Leaving the hut, he took a walk up the hill as the sky lightened. He spoke with James for a while about the flock.

When he returned home, Elsie was awake.

"Good morning," she smiled, before wrapping her arms around him and kissing him. "I wondered where you were."

"Just a short walk. I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to wake you." He looked down at her, her tousled hair down her back, the red strands just visible in the dim light that fell through the window. Her hands warm on his back. Her gaze up at him through half-lidded eyes.

 _I cannot believe she is mine._

"I wish you had," she murmured. He smiled, and let out a soft sigh before claiming her mouth once more.

Oh, what his kiss did to her. His lips on hers. One hand on her back, and the other in her hair. She thought vaguely that they _really_ did not have time, on this morning of all days, but as their embrace grew more heated, she could not bring herself to stop.

Or care.

As he untied her belt, his lips brushing her hairline, he wished he would have come in just a little sooner. It would have saved time for one of them, at least, to not have to take off their clothes.

On the other hand, removing her tunic in their home was one of his favorite activities.

As was the activity that always followed it.

Her sighs and whimpers grew louder the more frenetic their movements became. His heavy weight on her, her hands pulling his hair.

Her beneath him, him pulling her hair.

"Charles, yes, _yes_ ," she moaned, and he came undone. Her saying his name was a sound he adored, but when she called for him in the midst of passion, he never wanted her to stop.

She never wanted him to stop, either.

They lay afterwards tangled in a mess of limbs and wild hair, lips swollen, him clasping her hand against his chest as their hearts pounded.

"Now we _must_ get up," she sighed, still breathing hard, sitting up and leaning over him. She traced a finger down his prominent nose and kissed him once more. "We're to have a houseful of hungry young people here soon. And if I'm to have anything for them to eat, I have to start _now_."

Charles watched Elsie as she pulled on her tunic. He smiled, thinking it was the second time she had done that, and it was barely dawn.

She opened the door to the outside, swept the front of the room out of mere habit (it not being strictly needed), then she lit the fire. Stoking it further, she watched the little flame grow, glowing orange. She was busy measuring out how much flour she needed for the dough when she turned to see her husband still lying on the sheepskin.

His arms were spread out, and he hadn't bothered to cover up his naked body. His eyes blinked sleepily, and he had the most appalling smirk she had ever seen.

"Charles!" she cried, a hand on her hip. "You need to get up – they'll have started from the hall in the dark! They are most likely in Downton already!"

"I know," he said, stretching like a cat. "But I'm tired now. You were _entirely_ too good, wife." He rolled onto his side, but the movement only made him want to get up less.

She raised an eyebrow. "If our guests weren't coming today, I would still be beside you," she ran a hand through her hair. "But they _are_ coming. I need you to get up and milk the goats."

"You needed me for something different a short time ago," his voice was muffled by the sheepskin.

"Yes, I did," she murmured in an ominous tone. "And if you want me to need you again for that same purpose before the next new moon, you had best get up. _Now_."

His head snapped up. "You wouldn't deny me. You don't like denying yourself!"

A slow smile appeared on her face. "Oh, I can find restraint when I need to."

With a groan, he hauled himself up. She tossed his tunic at him. He was still tying the belt around his waist when he stepped outside. The sky to the east was rosy.

Elsie was pleased with the first two loaves baked. One was burnt a little, but only the crust. The other, to her delight, was golden brown. She wrapped them carefully. As she waited for the next batch of dough to bake, Charles came back in.

"Done, and done," he said, setting aside the milk. "I got more than I expected. It is likely Daisy will come today as well. I can't see Bill not letting her. She loves cheese, you know."

She nodded, lost in thought.

"What?" He touched her hand. "You are far away."

"It's…nothing," she said, turning away. "I'm being silly."

"What is it?" he repeated, thinking of what had kept him awake.

She raised her head, still looking away from him. "Thomas," she whispered. "He already did not like me before, and now…" she shook her head. "He likely hates me."

Charles frowned. "Hate is a strong word." He knew that the young man was not happy with their marriage, but surely his animosity did not run _that_ deep.

He hoped.

He tried to reassure her. "Daisy was worried about how she'd feel about you, but she warmed to you. I know Thomas is different, but hopefully in time-"

Elsie did look at him then. "Daisy is willing to try. She-she _lets_ me look after her. But what if he does not?"

Taking a deep breath, he held her hands in his. "He has not let _me_ in for a long time. I will keep trying, though. We must." He squeezed her hands. "That's what I was thinking about earlier. While you slept."

"Thomas?"

He nodded. "And Sybil." He swallowed, feeling the flutter in his belly once more. "Are you _sure_ she will accept me?"

Letting out a surprised laugh, she moved the curl back from his forehead. "Very certain. I will be shocked if she does not."

"And…and she won't be offended by me calling her Sybil? I suppose I cannot call her anything else in front of the others," he mused.

"She likes the name," Elsie's eyes widened, and she yanked her hands from Charles's. An acrid scent hit his nose as she pulled the pan out of the fire.

"Burnt?" he asked tentatively. In reply, she said several swear words that he had not heard since he had gone to war. "I…I need to go talk to Andrew," he said, beating a hasty retreat.

* * *

Daisy walked with her arm through Sybil's. Thomas and Edward followed behind by a short distance.

Neither of the young women spoke, both preoccupied with different thoughts. As they approached the crossroads to the shrine, Sybil spoke up.

"What are you thinking of?"

Daisy glanced at her. "What are _you_ thinking of? You were frowning for a while there."

"I asked you first."

"Fair enough," Daisy sighed. "When I was last at home, it was…tense. Papa and Mother had had an argument." She bit her lip. "I hope they forgave each other, because if they didn't, Thomas will say something about it. And I couldn't bear for him to. He hasn't _seen_ them like I have. When they're happy."

"I am sure they have reconciled," Sybil said bracingly. "I don't know your father like I do Elsie, but neither seems to be the sort to withhold forgiveness from each other."

"I hope you're right," Daisy said, her voice soft.

"Speaking of your father," Sybil changed the subject, "you know that Elsie is like a mother to me."

Her companion nodded.

"Well," Sybil took a deep breath. "In a way, by her marrying your father, I wonder if he would look at _me_ like I'm his daughter. I know he's got you," she playfully nudged her friend, "but my own father is not someone to admire, and I was hoping that maybe-"

"He would love that," Daisy said, her eyes brightening. "For you to treat him like your papa. Really," she smiled at Sybil's worried expression. "He's very kind to the apprentices. I think he would like having another daughter figure, other than me. Even though _I'm_ his favorite," she stuck out her tongue.

Sybil relaxed, laughing. "We'll see!"

* * *

The closer they got to home, the more tense Thomas grew. What would Father say? Would he expect him to treat Elsie like his mother? A part of him did not think so, but he wasn't sure. And what of Elsie herself? Not that he _cared_ , but she didn't like him, he was sure.

She made him nervous.

Edward, as ever, seemed to know what he was thinking. "It's going to be fine," he murmured, his hand on the small of Thomas's back as they walked behind the girls. "I'm here."

"Thank you," Thomas whispered as left the road, beginning to climb the hill. In the distance, a shepherd waved. It was Alfred, his red hair shining in the sun.

Thomas's eyes, however, were caught by the sight in front of the hut, the place where he was born. His father stood there, with Elsie standing next to him.

Thomas stopped dead in his tracks. "I-I can't do this," he muttered. "They-they're _holding hands!_ "

Edward stopped next to him. "Well of course they are," he said, rolling his eyes slightly. "She's his mate." He dropped his voice. "And you are mine. Come on." He took Thomas's hand, pulling him forward.

* * *

Daisy let out a breath as they climbed the hill. "They're holding hands," she whispered, a smile breaking on her face. Sybil squeezed hers.

"All better then?" she asked.

"Yes, thank the gods!"


	27. Goddess And The Baker

**A/N: For those of you not on Tumblr, my grandmother died two weeks ago. I've struggled a bit with writer's block, as well as getting back into my routine after the funeral and flurry of relatives (plus a lot of travel in a short period of time).**

 **In happier news, a good chunk of the next** _ **two**_ **chapters is already written. I split this chapter already. It's giving me Midsummer vibes again, yikes…**

 **The title of this chapter is taken from the name of a restaurant in Chicago. ChelsieSouloftheAbbey sent me the picture a while back, and it was perfect. I'll post it on Tumblr for those who want proof it actually exists.**

 **The subtitle of this chapter is Thomas is an ass. I do have a plan for him, and I hope you all will stick with me to see what happens with him – as well as everyone else in this enormous story, that's only getting longer all the time.**

 **Thanks for all your support! If you have time, please do post a review. I like all of them, short or long.**

* * *

Daisy and Sybil came into view first over the crest of the hill. Elsie caught her breath and felt her eyes well up at the sight of the two young women ( _our girls_ ) holding hands.

Sybil embraced her tightly as Daisy and Charles hugged next to them. "It's wonderful to see you! Tom sends his greetings, he wishes he could be here too," she whispered in her mother's ear. She pulled back a little to look in her face. "Oh _no_ , I've made you cry!"

"Only because I am so happy to see you," Elsie protested, running her fingers beneath her eyes. " _And_ your sister." Sybil gave her a warm smile. A glint of tears shone in her own eyes. Holding her mother's hands, she took a shaky breath.

"You look marvelous," she murmured. "Absolutely stunning. I have never seen – you are so at peace, so – so _whole_ , like only part of you was ever revealed."

"I am whole," Elsie pulled her into another hug. "Like I never was before. I didn't know I was _lacking_ anything."

"What would it be like, I wonder?" Sybil said in her ear. "If you were at home? What would you look like then? Even more beautiful, if that were possible."

"The same as before, I imagine," Elsie gave her another squeeze before letting her go once more. "But it doesn't matter to me now. I am beautiful to my husband-" she smiled, glancing at Charles, "-and that is enough."

After Charles embraced Daisy, he looked up to see Thomas and Edward approach slowly.

It did not escape his attention that they held hands.

He felt his heart skip a beat, and he nearly smiled, but he saw his son frowning and glaring at him, as if he expected Charles to chase them off his land.

Thomas's expression was clear to him.

 _Go on. Raise a fuss. I know you don't like it, and I don't care._

Charles pressed his lips together. He hoped what he felt was mirrored in his face.

 _Oh my lad, you never_ _asked_ _me how I felt. If you had, you would know I love you always, no matter what._

 _And you also have excellent taste. Clearly._

Everything he had heard about Edward, and the little he had observed himself, was good.

"Welcome home, my boy," he held out his arms to Thomas. The dark-haired young man reluctantly let go of his companion's hand and walked into his father's embrace. He held his arms straight, not returning Charles's hug.

Charles's heart sank at Thomas's stiff demeanor, but he tried to see the best of it. _At least he lets me be his father._

 _Sometimes._

"Well," he said, pulling back but keeping his hands on Thomas's shoulders, "it is wonderful to have you here, if only for a day. I trust the walk was pleasant?"

"It was," Thomas turned abruptly, forcing Charles to drop one hand from his shoulder. "Father, this is Edward. I believe you've met before, here, as well as at Midsummer-"

"Yes, of course. How could I forget the strong young man who defeated me?" Charles smiled at Edward, who to his delight, smiled back. Thomas's mate's face colored slightly at the memory.

He took Charles's outstretched hand. "Thank you for inviting us, Master Shepherd," he swallowed, nervous. "I imagine you treasure the time you spend with your children. Sybil and I are the intruders today."

Charles shook his head. "Not at all. I'm glad to see ones who have brought my son such contentment."

Edward peeked in Sybil's direction, but the shepherd was only looking at him. His face flushed redder and he looked at the ground. He could not hide his genuine smile.

"Tell me of your journey," Charles said, quickly glancing at Daisy, whose eyes sparkled. "How was Phyllis?"

 _Am I doing all right?_

 _You're doing fine, Papa._

"She's well," Thomas said with some awkwardness. _If he's going to try so hard, I might as well play along._ "She spoke highly of Daisy's baking."

While they chatted, Elsie and Sybil continued talking.

"What is it?" Elsie asked as her daughter steered her a little away from the others, toward the well.

Sybil glanced at Charles, his children, and Edward. "When we were at the wheelwright's, I thought I smelled Victor nearby," she whispered.

Elsie's eyes grew wide, but she had the sense to not react any further. "Did you _see_ anything?" Her face paled.

"No," Sybil shook her head. "Joseph's father blamed a spring near the forge for the stink. None of them thought much of it, except Phyllis. She did not like it at all, on account of her sickness. Of course none of them know…"

"Of course not," Elsie tugged on a long strand of hair. Her heart had sped up at the mention of Victor's name. "I never told you, but at Midsummer I thought I detected him, too. When we were behind the hedge. I cannot remember which direction the wind was blowing that day, but it _might_ have been the stream."

"Maybe," Sybil replied. The two locked eyes and they both saw each other's doubt. "I'll send Tom a message," she said quietly. "After we return to the hall. I don't doubt he and the others are keeping a close watch, but just to be sure-"

"Yes, please do," Elsie turned her head to the others. Daisy approached them.

"Hello!" she said brightly, hugging her mother. "Come join us."

Thomas was still telling his father about Phyllis and Joseph. Edward gave Elsie a kiss on the cheek. "Many congratulations on your marriage," he said. "You are well favored by the goddess, I believe. Midsummer is an excellent day to make vows."

Sybil coughed, hiding her grin behind her hand. "It seems so," Elsie said smoothly. "Thank you. If we were to do it over, I don't think either of us would do anything differently."

"You were fortunate that no one else chose that night to make vows," a smile flitted across Edward's face. "I've heard stories about couples lining up on the path to the shrine, waiting their turn."

Laughing, Elsie nodded, her arms crossed. "If others had been there, we would have waited in line."

Charles touched her on the shoulder. She cleared her throat, her heart racing once again. Folding her hands together, she forced herself to look Thomas in the eye.

 _This is utterly ridiculous. I am a goddess, and he is a mortal. Still a boy._

 _Angry._

 _Fragile._

 _Hurt._

 _But he is Charles's son, and Daisy's brother. I do hope he can at least accept me._

 _For his family's sake, if not for his own._

Her eyes were a dark blue. Thomas didn't remember that from before. There were things about her he did not understand, things that made him nervous. And yet her expression was open, not closed off. He felt his own heart miss several beats.

 _It's as though she looks right through me._

He did not like the sensation at all. Yet he could not look away.

She was luminous, stunning. More than he remembered. If he had desired women, he would have been completely captivated.

The silence between them went on so long it was as though he felt the air around them pressing on his chest.

"May I offer you my congratulations," he said finally. To his horror, his voice cracked on the last word.

 _Confound it, why can't I say what has to be said without sounding like a gawky boy?_

His temper flared when he saw her bite her lip, as if she wanted to laugh. He quickly kissed her cheek. It was short, perfunctory, bordering on rude. Especially considering she was his father's wife. Looking away, he clenched his fists, wishing he were anywhere else.

"Thank you, Thomas," she said quietly. He thought he saw her glance at his father. The look infuriated him.

Charles had opened his mouth to give his son a telling-off. It was evident Thomas did not like Elsie. But she silently gripped his wrist, her message clear: _Do_ _not_ _make a scene. Not now._

"Sybil, do you still want to do what we talked about?" Daisy broke the awkward silence. "If we start now, it shouldn't be too hot for it."

"Oh-yes, I do," the dark-haired young woman nodded. "If you don't mind."

"Not a bit," Daisy looked at her father. "We're going to be in the house for a while, all right? Just the two of us."

Charles took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Have a good time." He raised an eyebrow at his wife. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you." At her expression, he bit back his own grin. "It's a surprise."

"Goodness, what is this dark secret?" Elsie had a good idea of what it was, but then again, knowing her own history, she was not at all sure that it would turn out well.

"I'm not at ease with it, I admit, but you won't get the secret out of _me_ ," his eyes were serious.

Though he had grown used to Elsie doing all manner of domestic work, he was uncomfortable with the idea of Sybil doing so, even though he knew she was a servant in the king's house.

What if Daisy suspected the young woman was not what she seemed?

"Mistress, would you mind showing me the flock with Freya?" Edward asked, turning to Elsie. "And don't you dare try to avoid him now," he said out of the corner of his mouth to Thomas, who was attempting to slip away.

"Of course," Elsie rolled her eyes at Charles. _It seems I'm to be taken out of the way._ She and Edward set out for the hillside. Thomas sighed as the younger women disappeared into the house.

"Would you come for a walk with me?" his father asked, gesturing to the hills behind them.

It seemed he had no other choice.

* * *

The heat of the day filled the room as the sun climbed. The heat from the fire in the coals made it all the more stifling.

"I did want to talk to your father today," Sybil said as she kneaded the dough under Daisy's supervision. "I hope I get the chance." She wiped her forehead, leaving a trace of flour. Daisy bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"You will," she said, folding her arms. "I'm sure he wants to talk to you. I know Mother's told him about you." She leaned over, checking the work.

"No, no," Sybil waved her away. "You already told me how to do it. I want to try on my own."

"Suit yourself." The younger girl went and opened the door further, trying to get more air into the room.

She waited until Sybil's mutterings drove her to go take another look.

"What in wonderland do you call _that?_ " she burst out.

To her surprise, Sybil half-laughed, though frustration was evident on her face. "You sound like Elsie's friend Beryl when you talk like that!"

Daisy, embarrassed, reminded herself of her manners. _Don't be rude!_ "Sorry…I-I mean, I do not fully understand what you are trying to do," she stammered. The dough was a pathetic sight.

 _Mother's was worse._

"Oh, I _knew_ it wasn't supposed to look like this," Sybil groaned. She pulled a strand of hair stuck to her cheek. "Why does everything go so lumpy?"

Daisy grimaced, studying the sorry-looking dough. Sybil could plainly see her friend was trying to be diplomatic. "Tell you what. Chuck it out, and we'll start again." When Sybil sighed in frustration, Daisy patted her back. "Mother was worse when I first met her. Neither she nor Beryl seemed to know the first thing about how to make bread. At least you knew how to start!"

"Then why doesn't that make me feel better?" Sighing, Sybil measured out more flour.

* * *

Father and son walked over the brow of the hill. The flock was scattered here and there, while Alfred sat with his back to an outcropping of rock.

Thomas said nothing. What he felt like saying, he knew his father did not want to hear. He had thought about making peace with him at the hall, on the walk to the village, even a short while ago before they arrived. The sight of the newlywed couple, however, had driven all thoughts of harmony from his mind.

 _Why marry in such haste? Not even your children there!_

 _I'm sure Daisy would've liked to have been there. I would at least liked to have been_ _asked_ _to be there._

 _Don't you care about us at all?_

 _You only care about your ravishing wife. And the gods._

The more he thought about it, the angrier he felt. Part of him resisted it. Somewhere inside a small voice whispered, reminding him of Father's words, of the way he had welcomed Edward.

But the way Father had stood as they came up the hill, with Elsie beside him and their hands entwined, made his heart sink into the ground.

Like they were one being.

Indissoluble.

Unbreakable.

 _Daisy is happy with their marriage._

It made him feel shut out, lonelier than ever, even with Edward there. He knew his mate wanted him to accept Elsie, to be a part of the family. To at least acknowledge their happiness.

Part of him wanted to.

But it was easier to cling to his anger and resentment. It was his safety, his shield.

 _I have lost so much already._

Charles broke the silence. "I know you are upset," he gripped his crook in his hand tighter. "About my marrying Elsie so suddenly. I expect it was quite a shock-"

"A _shock?_ " Thomas cried. "When her husband died Lady Mary received a _shock_ , when I received your message, it was a catastrophe!"

Stopping short, Charles faced his son. Thomas's face was livid with anger. His firstborn was not even trying to hide his rage.

"What would you have had me do?" Charles asked, trying to keep his temper. "I wrote to you myself so that you _didn't_ hear of it from anyone else! I was thinking of you! Why can't you see that?"

" _See?_ See _what!?_ That you were thinking of me?" Thomas snapped, his blue eyes blazing. "I doubt that! Since Mother died – my _real_ mother-" he nearly choked, but kept going, "-you haven't seen anything except your precious pretend gods and sometimes the sheep!"

"Do _not_ blaspheme the gods-" In protest, Charles interrupted, but Thomas was too far gone.

"And ever since _she_ -" he pointed aimlessly in the other direction, his meaning clear, "-came here, you haven't seen anything else!" He held up his hands, palms out, feeling the weight of his anger and grief as if he wore an iron cloak.

Would he ever be rid of it?

 _Not now._

Maybe not ever.

With extraordinary effort, he contained his temper, sucking in a breath. "I accept it, I accept your marriage with Elsie," he shook his head, "but only because it's already done." His eyes smoldered.

 _How convenient._

 _Too late to do anything about it._

The understanding he had given his father on Midsummer felt as though it had been stolen from him. _He asked for my understanding before he married her, and I gave it! Then what did he do? Turned around and married her that very evening! Of all the gall!_

"What would _I_ have had you do?" He looked in the distance, toward the golden line that was the road heading to Downton, before meeting Charles's eyes again. He suddenly felt the need to explain, to maybe, _finally_ , have his father understand.

The ache within that had tormented him since Mother died.

"I would have had you see reason, that the so-called _gods_ are most likely a figment of a priest's imagination, and if there are any such creatures, then we are simply pawns in their hands. They are not to be respected, much less _worshipped_!"

He then turned his attention to the other essence of his ire.

"As for the shepherdess, I would have had you keep your distance from her from the moment she arrived! She is a danger-"

"Only to you," Charles's voice was like veiled thunder. Fury virtually poured from him. "To you, and your misery. I love you, I have since the day you were born, but I will _never_ understand your hatred of the gods, your clinging to your unhappiness, your indifference to your family-"

He knew Thomas got on well with Daisy, but his son's words had cut him to the heart.

To hear him disparage the gods so, felt like an attack on him personally.

Now more than ever.

"-you know _nothing_ of the gods, of things that are not in plain sight!" he cried. "You see only what you _want_ to see!" He stamped his crook on the ground in vexation. "Why can you not understand that what I do isn't to _hurt_ you, but because I _care_ about you! I cannot force you to believe in the gods," his eyes flashed, "but I do expect you to show some understanding, if not for the Divine, then for those who _do_ believe in them. And Elsie-"

It did not escape him of the irony of speaking of her separate from the gods. But it was for Thomas and Daisy's protection that they not be told of her true nature.

"I married her," he said, taking a deep breath, " _not_ because I wished to trample on your mother's memory, as you well know, but because I _love_ her, and I believe she can be a good influence for you and your sister-"

"Maybe for Daisy, but leave me out of it," Thomas scoffed in seething contempt. "There's nothing you can say or do that will make me change my mind about her. What's done is done, thanks to you! You were _always_ going to do as you wanted, why pretend it is for my good? You are a _liar!_ "

That was what hurt.

"It _is_ for your good!" Charles exclaimed. He yanked a hand through his hair, feeling exasperated. "And it is _not_ true that I was determined to exert my will – if I was, I would have married long before now!"

It was true. He had been willing before this particular summer to take a wife. But his children had not been ready, and he had refrained from doing so.

He had refrained from acknowledging his feelings toward Elsie for a while as well.

He had always known that he wanted to marry the right woman for him, as well as for Thomas and Daisy.

"Oh, my own _good!?_ " Thomas's face was contorted in anger. "It's for my own _good_ that I pray to worthless objects, pretending they can hear me? My own _good_ that you marry a woman you barely know, a woman desired by men in many kingdoms? Out with it – you married her to satisfy your own lust, to bed her whenever you wanted to! What kind of woman enjoys that-"

His tirade was ended by his father stepping closer to him, his face red. Thomas leaned back.

" _Never_ ," Charles whispered, his face an inch from his son's, " _never_ say that again. You know _nothing_ of this. You will apologize for your wicked and foul words _at once_."

Thomas blinked several times. "Show me proof of the gods, and of your wife's virtue, and I will apologize. Until then, I will speak freely."

Charles had never wanted to strike his son before, but for a moment he was not sure he would be able to stop himself. He did, but only just. He clenched his fists.

"Your arrogance will be your undoing," he muttered. "It is not wise to ask for which you know is impossible to show to anyone's standards."

From the look on Thomas's face, the youth was not listening to a word he said.

 _It's like talking to a stone wall._

 _Will I ever be able to get through to him?_

"Is there anything else – Father?" Thomas gritted through his teeth, clearly wanting to be out of Charles's sight.

The shepherd felt a pang at the coldness in his voice.

 _He used to call me Papa._

 _A long time ago._

"No," he said softly.

There was nothing more to be said.

Without another word, Thomas stomped off across the hill. Charles turned in the direction of Elsie's old hut, but he perceived nothing of the view.

A soft breeze rippled the leaves of the oak tree above the hut. It sounded like rain.

He leaned on his crook and cried.

* * *

Thomas stormed away in a zigzag line, avoiding several sheep. The grass near the top of the hill had been worn down by the animals, and several stones were visible. He bent over and picked up two.

He threw them as far as he could, roaring out his frustration.

Father didn't understand. He was set on his own path, and there was nothing he, Thomas, could do to turn him.

 _It's like trying to move a stubborn donkey._

Why couldn't he just _listen?_ And the gods, the gods – always the defense of the gods!

 _They hate me._

 _If Eala's out there somewhere, no doubt she deliberately sent that woman here just to seduce him!_

Father's words " _I love her_ " rang in his memory. His throat felt as though something were caught inside, choking him.

 _He never said he loved Mother. Not out loud. And never to us. I've heard it twice from him now, it's like throwing it back in my face-_

A rock was in the sun-baked grass ahead of him. Picturing it as Elsie, he kicked it with all of his might and sent it sailing. Andrew looked in his direction from his place south of the ash tree, but Thomas ignored him. He continued on through the meadow to the more desolate plains beyond.

On his left, nearly behind him, the lake sat quiet in the hot morning. The flatter plains went on and on to the east. They were broken by a line of rippling hills to the southeast. He could see the shimmering heat in the air, the dust rising from his footsteps.

The line of mountains beyond the hills was nearly lost in the haze, the cone-shaped dome of the largest at the end unseen.

* * *

Charles sniffed and wiped his eyes. Standing up straight, he turned around, facing north. There were a few travelers on the road in the later morning. A stray cart here and there, as well as people on foot.

"Master?"

James approached him, having come out of the hut.

"Yes?" he said, his voice dull. The apprentice shifted his feet, yawning.

"I was wondering if I could go to the village. After I watch the sheep, of course," he said quickly. "Just to meet some friends."

Friends, Charles knew, that were planning on organizing fights, then making wagers on them. He would normally keep his apprentices from engaging in such activity, but Thomas had drained him.

"Oh, very well," he said, a hint of impatience in his voice. "But do try not to lose _all_ your gold this time – Alfred's trying to save his, and he'll never be able to if he has to keep giving it to you."

"I won't," the young man said with confidence. "My friend Jos is here from Thirsk. No one can match his fists."

"For your sake, I hope that's true."

James walked by him to take Alfred's watch.

It was peaceful on the hill with the wind brushing against his face. After a short while, Charles sighed and set out back to his home.

He wondered where Thomas had gone, but knew it was better if he was left alone.

For a while.

 _There is no doubt of it now. He hates me._

Stopping, he bent forward, his grief as sharp as physical pain.

 _I'll need to wash my face. I don't want to ruin the others' day._

It was quiet as he reached the dip in between the hills and started up towards the house. Wondering how Sybil and Daisy were getting on, he smiled through red eyes. _Well, the house is not on fire, that's a good sign._

He stopped dead next to the stream. Sniffing the air, the pungent odor made him cough. His brow furrowed, he stooped over the low water and brought some to his lips.

 _Strange. It does not_ _taste_ _like sulfur._

 _Then why did I smell it?_

The breeze was a little stronger than before. It _did_ come from the west. Perhaps it had brought that foul-smelling scent from the spring on the other side of Downton.

He washed his face then headed up the hill, never noticing the imprint of someone's foot in the soft mud.

* * *

Edward and Elsie came down the hill by the stream, before cutting across a pasture to the back of the house, by the empty pen.

"At the beginning of spring, the flocks are brought here for shearing," she said, her hand on the split wooden fence. "We only pen them a few other times during the year. Before Midsummer, and the Harvest Festival."

"Thank you for showing me the flocks. Freya is incredible!" Edward smiled up at the tree that shaded part of the pen and the house. Laughing, Elsie shook her head.

"You don't have to pretend to be interested," she grinned at the young man. "I doubt you will ever watch sheep. You belong in a king's palace."

Blushing, Edward looked down at her. "Thank you. It's all I ever wanted to do, really, to serve the king and fight for him if needed. Still, I'm glad you showed me."

Charles ducked under a low branch and appeared from the other direction, coming up the hill.

"Hello there," Elsie greeted him with a smile before asking the same question as Edward.

"Where's Thomas?"

The shepherd took a deep breath. "We…had an argument, and he walked off. He went up that way," he gestured with his chin to the top of the hill and the meadow beyond. "I thought it best to leave him alone for a while. I'm sure he'll come back," he tried to smile at Edward. "His belly, if nothing else, will bring him back."

Edward took a long look in the direction of the meadow. "He never skips a meal, not if he can help it."

"I'm sure he's all right," Elsie patted his arm. She wore a worried expression as she glanced at her husband. Something had gone wrong, that was certain.

 _Are you all right?_

He blinked and gave her a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. _Later_ , he mouthed at her.

"I actually came here because I thought I'd get a peek at what the girls are up to," Charles said quickly, his voice low. "There, inside-"

The three of them cautiously approached the window, bending over to avoid the hanging branches of the tree.

"Sybil told me she was keen to try this," Edward whispered. "She said she never had before."

Through the window, they could see the girls huddled near the fire. Daisy's voice reached them.

"-even the most experienced cook can burn themselves if they're not careful."

"Do you think it's ready?" Sybil fretted.

"I _know_ it's ready! Go on, you don't want to spoil it!"

"She wanted to make bread for you, as a surprise," Edward smiled at Elsie.

"I'm uneasy with surprises at the best of times, and when Daisy told me, I wondered if this was entirely appropriate," Charles murmured in her ear.

Sybil pulled the baked bread out, steam pouring from it. A beautiful smile beamed from her face, and Daisy's, as they set it out to cool.

Elsie felt as though she would burst with pride. She bit her lip to keep a peal of joyful laughter in.

 _She's better at it than I am. Beryl will be amused to hear that._

"It is _entirely_ appropriate for her to make something nice for me, and for us all," she said in a low voice to the two men. "And the bread will be a surprise, whether you approve or not," she raised an eyebrow at Charles before getting Edward's attention. "Between the two of you, please don't give me away!"

They promised, Edward looking amused, and Charles with an uncertain look on his face.

The bread was a great success, and Sybil reveled in her triumph.

"It is excellent, especially for a first-time baker," Elsie said as they sampled the first pieces. "Daisy must have taught you well."

"She's a great teacher, if a little free with her remarks," Sybil gave the younger girl a cheeky grin. "I heard things come out of her mouth that I never heard before!"

Charles swallowed his bread with some difficulty. He was very glad Elsie's daughter had done well, and that the others were enjoying their day.

He only wished he could have said something different to Thomas.

 **TBC...**


	28. Questions

They ate outside on the hillside, grateful for the breeze. The sun was at its apex.

But Thomas did not appear, even though they all ate slowly. Edward kept looking toward the meadow. Finally, Charles sighed.

"I am sure he's all right, but perhaps we should look for him."

After a search of the surrounding hillsides and the meadow, they gathered by the ash tree.

Daisy said she would go by the lake, then up to the source of the spring. "He likes to sit there sometimes. Mother, would you come with me?"

"Yes," Elsie said. She was glad of the suggestion. If they found him, it would be better if she encountered Thomas with his sister present.

"I'd like to search the pastures east," Edward said, pointing in that direction. "Andy, you said he went that way-"

"He did, heading more south than straight on, I think," Andy nodded, his fingers on his chin.

"Andrew, go with Edward," Charles said. "You know the land better. He could get lost out there – it all looks the same to a newcomer. I'll stay and watch the flock."

 _I should not be the one who finds him, anyway._

"Take Remme with you," Elsie said to Andrew. "She is a good tracker, and can lead you back in case you lose your way."

"If you don't mind, could I stay here in the meadow?" Sybil asked Charles. The shepherd nodded, and everyone wandered in separate directions. Andrew whistled for Remme, and the dog came running after him.

Sybil sat down in the shade of the ash tree. Pulling her long dark hair over one shoulder, she watched as Charles whistled for Freya to bring several scattered sheep together.

It was very quiet except for the gentle wind in the tall grass.

"You are not at peace," Sybil murmured. Charles turned and looked at her in surprise. "I mean," she continued, looking across the meadow, "You are not at peace with _yourself_ , or with your son. You worry that you did the wrong thing, that by marrying again you drove him away. It's not true. There's been a separation between the two of you for a long time. Your recent argument just made it visible – like a lightning strike in the middle of the night."

Charles's mouth was hanging open as he stared at her. Finally, he chuckled under his breath, shaking his head in awe. "Your mother…told me of your gift. I suppose you've just shared it with me." He cocked his head to one side. "Or are you simply trying to get on my good side?"

Sybil grinned up at him, smoothing out the skirt on her tunic. "Maybe. But it is also in my nature to find balance between people, as well as help them find it in themselves."

Her eyes were clear blue. Despite her appearance, Charles knew he was in the presence of someone far older than himself.

It felt very odd.

"I only want there to be understanding between us," he whispered. "Thomas, and myself. I knew if I married there was little chance he would take it well." Sighing, he looked up, watching a wisp of cloud sweep by.

"Because he feels that you taking another wife is a betrayal of his mother."

Charles nodded. "I have tried to explain that it _isn't_ , but he won't listen to me."

Sybil plucked at a long strand of grass, feeling its sturdy fiber against her fingers. "There is something else that divides you. The gods."

"He contradicts himself," Charles said. He did not feel the need to hide anything from her. "One moment, he says they don't exist, then the next he says that they hate him! It can be one or the other. Not both. When I tried to tell him that, he only got angrier with me."

"Thomas is like many people," Sybil said, holding out her hand to Freya, who lay down next to her. "He hates being wrong, but hates even more being _told_ he is wrong. I can't be certain," she petted the dog, "but I would guess that he still believes in the gods. But he does not want to tell you. He'd hate for you to know you were right."

This was so sensible Charles had no answer for it. "Would it be possible," he gave her a slight grin, "for you to assume divine form in front of him? Only for a moment. He likes you, you would convince him-"

Though she smiled, the way she raised an eyebrow was eerily similar to Elsie. " _You_ know it doesn't work that way, Master Shepherd. Besides, if I did that, then _I_ would have to go home right away. And I don't want to, not just yet."

"We haven't driven you away?" His tone was light, but there was a shade of worry in it.

"No," she reassured him. "Thomas has lost his way, but I believe he will find his way back again. And my mother…" Her eyes shone. "She has found more happiness with you than with anyone I have ever seen."

"Has she really?" he asked. It was not that he thought Elsie was lying to him, but to hear it from Sybil was music to his ears.

In the distance, he saw Elsie and Daisy following the stream east to its source.

"Yes," she said. "There's a part of her that was hidden for a long time, that's now been revealed. It means everything to me that she is at peace! _Thank_ you," she gave Charles a look of such gratitude he felt overwhelmed.

"I…didn't think it would mean so much to you," he muttered.

"Why would it not? She's my mother! Of course I want to see her happy!"

He put his hand behind his back, gazing at the flock. Something bothered him. He had not mentioned it to Elsie, since they had so lately been separated by the shock of her divinity.

"Charles?" Sybil's voice ( _Harmony's_ ) was clear, if quiet.

"It surprises me," he said, "that you would take such an interest in me, in Thomas and Daisy, in any of us. I wonder if you will always think that way, or if it will fade. And if Elsie is the same."

"In the way she thinks about you?" Freya rolled over in the grass, and Sybil rubbed her belly.

"Yes." He turned to face her. "I am nothing. My life is nothing to the gods. We live such a _short_ time, and…" he rubbed a hand through his hair. "Sometimes I wonder why your mother risks so much. For me. I know how _I_ see her, and I know she is happy. But I will be gone in a twinkle of an eye, in a passing breath of wind. And she will endure forever. I can't help but wonder if she will forget me. After I am gone – not that I would know." He pressed his lips together, moving the crook from one hand to the other.

"Other times, I wonder if I'm just a sad old fool."

He heard the gentleness in Sybil's voice. "Sad you may be, but old you are _not_ , and you are certainly not a fool. There's little reason to fret over what may happen. Every day you're together, you should cherish it. Like the time you have with your children."

"Even when there are things that divide us. Very true," Charles said in a dry tone. He glanced to his right, off to the east. Thomas most likely had only gone for a long walk, but he hoped he had not gotten lost. Or hurt.

Sybil stroked Freya's back, lost in thought. A tiny wrinkle appeared between her eyes.

"Is something troubling you?"

"I don't wish to add to your worries," she said quickly. "My mother has likely already told you about her – betrothal."

"She has," he felt his heart skip. "You are not adding to anything I don't already know." He paused. " _Is_ there something I don't know about it?"

She shook her head. "No, Mother already told you everything. And we really shouldn't worry. Friends of ours, including my husband, are watching out for her and for you," she said. A short laugh bubbled from her mouth. "I should take my own advice, and not worry about the future."

"It seems it's difficult not to. Whether you are divine or mortal."

Leaning back on her hands, Sybil watched the fluttering leaves above them. "At times like this I envy Tom. He can see both the divine and the mortal sides much more clearly than any of us."

Charles frowned, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Tom?"

She laughed out loud. "I suppose it does sound funny to you. My husband did not take mortal form, but since I did and have another name here, he chose one for himself. So we, his family and friends, have started calling him Tom."

He blinked, trying to comprehend it. "Your husband is the Messenger."

"Yes," she nodded.

"And he goes by…Tom."

"Yes," she repeated, her smile wider. "I like it. I think it suits him better than his given name."

He wasn't so sure. It seemed beneath the gods to take names from mortals. _But who am I to question them?_ "Which name do you prefer for yourself? Harmony, or Sybil?"

"Harmony, when I'm home. But my mother will always be Elsie to you…and I'd like it if you'd call me Sybil. That is my name while I'm here," she said.

"As you wish." They were quiet for a long time, until Charles broke the silence.

"So…tell me about this husband of yours," he said, smiling slightly. "Are all the stories true about him?"

* * *

Thomas kept his eyes on the ground. For a long time he blindly went on, until the midday sun began to bother him. His belly rumbled.

He ignored it for as long as he could. He did not like the thought of going back and facing the others.

Guilt gnawed at him.

Try as he might to justify himself.

Not about the gods. He stood by what he said. But what he had said to Father's face about Elsie, he already regretted.

 _I do not trust her. There_ _is_ _something dangerous about her, I feel it. What I said to him about barely knowing her was right._

But really, questioning her virtue?

 _That went too far, and you know it._

Yes, other men desired her. Was that _her_ fault? There was no proof she had ever indulged anyone else. Or dishonored his father.

There had been a moment when he had flinched, certain that Father would strike him. Now, as he walked through wild pastures abandoned by shepherds long gone, he wondered why he had dared say such things. Did he _want_ Father to hit him? To see him break?

 _You hit him in the competition._

 _That was different._

It still bothered him.

 _He would never hurt you. No matter how much you hurt him._

He stopped and bent over, resting his hands on his knees. He resisted for several moments before giving in and weeping, the hot tears dripping onto the ground.

The wind rustled softly through the heather.

When he stood up again, the sun hurt his eyes and his mouth felt as dry as wool.

He turned back.

Because he had wandered farther and further south than he had intended, he began to feel light-headed before he finally saw the source of the spring. A large rock had been placed there an unknown amount of time before, marking the place. He fell onto the ground and crawled forward on his hands and knees. Dunking his head under the water, he relished the cold against his burning face, the life-giving source.

He drank deeply but stopped himself from drinking too much. The last thing he wanted was to make himself sick. Getting to his feet, he slowly dragged his feet as he walked beside the stream, heading west.

Part of him wondered if anyone had come looking for him. The sun was well past its peak.

 _If they didn't, it's no more than you deserve._

He could see the trees bordering the lake in the distance off to his right. In front of him, the tops of the trees that marked the edge of the meadow appeared.

His thirst partially quenched, he felt hungrier than ever. And the sun had taken more out of him than he cared to admit. He slumped down on the ground in the shade of a young oak.

 _Rest. Just for a moment._

Startling awake, he nearly panicked. His heart beat resumed its normal course when he saw that the shadows had not moved much.

"I thought I might have to wake you."

Elsie's quiet voice almost made him scream. He bit his tongue. It hurt.

"You…I didn't know…how long have you been here?" he asked, sitting up further, brushing dirt from his tunic.

"Not long. Daisy and I walked by here, but that was much earlier," she said, seated near him. She rested her head against her finger and thumb. "Edward and Andy searched the eastern pastures with Remme, but by the time they found your trail, they were too thirsty to follow it back here. They're all in the meadow now, with your father and Sybil and the flock. I thought I'd come find you myself."

Her steady gaze made him drop his. His guilt intensified. His sister and friends searching for him, worrying about him.

Without speaking, she handed him a bundle. Inside was a small loaf of bread, several figs, cheese, and a generous portion of fish. Instantly, his mouth watered and his belly twisted. He mumbled thank you before beginning to devour it.

"You've had a touch of the sun. Your face is red," she said. She reached over and brushed some of the wet hair aside on his forehead.

Instinctively, he leaned back, away from her touch.

"I'm fine," he muttered through a mouthful of cheese. She raised her eyebrows.

"Really? You'll be exhausted walking back to the hall tonight."

"I don't know why that concerns you," he spat out, frowning. He swallowed the last of the cheese and started on the figs.

"Thomas," there was a hint of impatience in her voice. "Whether you acknowledge it or not, I _do_ care about your welfare."

The figs did not go down easily. _Why did I say those things to Father about her?_

"There's…there's no need to pretend with me," he said, forcing himself to look her in the eye. "Look, I know you care for Daisy." _Anyone would._ "And I'm grateful. But I can take care of myself."

Her expression was soft. It made him uncomfortable. He shifted on the ground, turning so he wasn't facing her.

"You know," she said in a quiet voice that both annoyed and appealed to him in equal measure, "you and I are not as different as you may think."

"How is that?"

"We both have a lot of anger. But I have learned to control mine. You have not – yet."

He did not want to admit it, but he was curious.

"What makes _you_ angry, Elsie? You have everything you want. Unless there's something you want, other than my father."

She twirled a long strand of hair around one finger, a small smile on her lips.

 _Is she blushing?_

Clearing her throat, she looked up at him. Her dark eyes reminded him of deep water under a moonless sky. Things hidden in its depths.

Maybe there was nothing threatening about her.

But maybe there was.

"Charles has made me very happy, yes," she said. "You know as well as I that no one gets everything they want."

He swallowed and his belly clenched. "You seem like the sort who can. You are – you're _dangerous_."

She actually laughed at him. "Dangerous? My, my. It depends on your view. It is in _your_ power to be dangerous, Thomas. If someone ever threatened Edward's life, I know you would not hesitate to strike them down. And I wouldn't blame you for it." Her expression was serious.

"Edward…" he muttered, looking away from her. Abruptly, he got to his feet. "He's probably worried, I should go. They're in the meadow, you said?"

"Yes," she followed him.

They walked in silence. She a little behind him, but close enough for him to see her just over his left shoulder.

It rankled that she had not answered his question. Not that he expected her to, really. Like he doubted he would know why she and Father married in haste-

He stopped so suddenly, turning around, that she bumped into him.

"Why did you and Father marry at Midsummer? He said _he_ thought of it."

Blinking rapidly, she took a step back. His pale grey eyes were hard. "Circumstances," she said quietly.

His heart sank and he put his hands on his hips. " _Circumstances?_ Such as?"

"They are none of your concern," she said. Her face betrayed nothing.

Throwing all caution aside, he decided to be blunt. "Are you carrying his child?"

Her face flushed red. " _What?_ "

"Are you carrying his child?"

 _Dangerous_ , his mind screamed. Something flashed behind her eyes. What, he could not tell.

For the second time that day, he flinched, certain he would be punished for saying too much.

"No."

He took a breath, not realizing he had been holding it. He pressed further. "Did you tell him you were?" It was the only thing in his mind that made sense, why Father would have married her so quickly.

" _No._ Thomas," her jaw was tense, like she was gritting her teeth. "I would _never_ do that to your father, not that _any_ of this is your affair!"

He did not have the courage to say anything else to her. It was similar to the last Harvest Festival, when he had mocked Violet and Isobel in the middle of prayers.

He thought he would crumble on the spot under Elsie's withering gaze.

Walking faster, he hurried to the meadow.

* * *

Edward was relieved, hugging Thomas for a long time after they were reunited. The others too were happy to see him. Even Father.

He appeased a little of his guilt by apologizing for his rudeness before they left. Daisy, Sybil and Edward gave the two of them privacy.

"I forgive you," Charles laid a hand on his shoulder. Thomas plucked up his courage.

"I am sorry for what I said about – about Elsie. But the gods are another matter. I don't ask for your pardon on that, since I still feel the same."

Sadness washed over his father's face. "I hope you change your mind."

"It will not be today." _Please don't push me._

Thankfully, Father said no more about it, merely wishing him and the others a safe journey back.

Thomas couldn't help turning around when they reached the road. Two figures stood next to the house in the glare of the late afternoon sun.

They were holding hands.

* * *

Night had fallen. The room was completely dark. Charles could not see his wife, but he hardly needed to. Not when they were so close he did not know where he stopped, and she began.

"Charles," she whispered against his lips, her hands on his back. " _Please_ ," her voice came out in a moan.

He moved above her, feeling her breasts against the hair on his chest. She kissed him again, deeply. Hard. Her mouth on his, her hands sliding the length of him, everywhere, to his shoulders, his hair, then back down again.

Touching. Needing. _Him._

"Elsie," he panted. It was unbelievable, the pleasure they shared. That she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her.

" _Please_ ," she gasped, her breathing erratic. Her hands wandered lower. "There, _yes_ , my man."

Their rhythm increased, their tempo interspersed by sighs, whispers, moans.

She cried out. The sound spiraled higher.

Then higher.

His mate, his lover, his woman, his _goddess_ , shattered beneath him. He let out a yell, his own restraint unleashed.

It was not pride that overshadowed him in these moments, but awe. That he, of all men, was the one she desired.

Desired him above the gods.

And yet though he knew who she was, _what_ she was, she was his wife. It gave him such happiness to please her, to give her what she wanted.

 _Tonight, tomorrow. And for how ever many days we have._

He held her in his arms as she shook, the intensity of their lovemaking rippling through her body like small waves from a stone thrown into still water.

"I love you," he whispered. When he kissed her, he realized she was crying. "Elsie? What is it? What's the matter?"

It had been a long day, with highs and lows. Their children all at home. Sybil's worry, then her triumph with the bread, Daisy's joy. Edward's happiness, Thomas's anger.

Charles had told her of their argument, and of the conversation he had had with Sybil. She had told him what Thomas had said.

Most of it, anyway.

She took a shuddering breath, and let it out. Charles rubbed her back. "It…it's something Thomas said. Or _asked_ , to be more precise."

"What did he say?" She could hear the rumble in his voice, his attempt to keep his temper at bay. She swallowed and touched his temple, drew a line down the side of his face. To calm him.

"He asked if I was carrying your child."

"He _what!?_ The _insolence_ -"

"Shhh, Charles," she traced her fingers over his lips, sighing. "I'm glad he did."

"What!? _Why?_ " She could feel his irritation, his outrage. "He had no right to ask you, it isn't his place…"

The room was suddenly very quiet. She felt him take her face in his big hands. Gentle.

"Elsie." His voice was barely over a whisper, a breath hanging in the air. " _Are_ you?"

Closing her eyes, she felt fresh tears flow down her cheeks.

"I am not."

When he said nothing, she could not keep back a sob.

 _It is as I thought._

"Don't-" he wiped her face with his fingers. "I-I'm not angry with _you_. Thomas should _never_ had the cheek to ask such a thing. He knows better."

She nodded, and he moved onto his side so they faced each other, her head against his chest. He stroked her hair while she tried to stop crying. She could feel the tension in his body, the unasked question.

"I never thought about it," he said finally. "Not before we married. And after, there were so many other things to think about…"

She smoothed her hand on his chest over his heart. The frail flesh over the beating organ. One day it would stop.

 _You know what the right choice is._

"It seems silly to ask," he swallowed, nervous. "But is it even _possible?_ I-I know _you_ , as the goddess, have power-"

"I do," she said softly, fighting the choking feeling in her throat.

The grief in her heart.

The image of the fertility altar appeared in her mind.

"It is one of the gifts I give to mortals." She had to force the words from her mouth, the words that had to be said. "It is not that I _cannot_ carry your child," she swallowed back more tears, "it is that I _will_ not. Better yet, I _dare_ not. I have already put you, your children, and every mortal here in great danger. To carry your child would be a provocation to the gods that would border on madness."

 _No matter how much I desire it._

It had pricked at the corners of her mind for a little while. Seeing Phyllis and Joseph had caused it to bloom within her, but the worry over Victor had brought her back to the reality not of what _could_ happen, but what certainly _would_ happen were she to overstep that particular boundary.

 _Father would know. He would not hesitate to take such a child from me, and have it destroyed. Probably hand the innocent over to one of the Cyclops._

The very thought almost made her ill.

 _And he would destroy the kingdom, everything that is dear to Charles. To me._

 _ **That**_ _is why I dare not._

"Father accepted Harmony, partly because Marcas is a god," she said. "And also because she brought much needed peace to his realm. I…wanted a child,"she mumbled, feeling the weight of guilt, of choices made, of paths trod that could not be retraced.

Her father had sired more than one demigod on mortal women. As had other gods. But considering her betrothal to the Fire God, and the events that led to it, she did not want to think of the consequences of giving birth to Charles's child.

She began to weep, her head on her husband's shoulder.

"It seems the height of foolishness to ask you to defy your own judgment, much more your reason," he whispered, his hand caressing her face. "And simply insane of me to want _more_ , more than having you for my wife. I would never ask that of you."

"But you want another child," she murmured against his warm skin. "There is nothing _wrong_ with that."

"I _wanted_ a child of ours," he said, "And so did you. For a few glorious moments I thought we would share that. But-" Elsie's heart ached when she heard the wobble in his voice. "You are right. I only wish…I could give you what you wanted." His voice broke, and she wiped his tears with her fingers.

"You have," she whispered in his ear. "Do you not think the gift of your love is enough?"

She did reassure him somewhat. But he knew as well as she did that there was nothing wrong with sharing their grief over the loss of a dream.

The heat of the day gave way to storms that night.

Lightning struck one of the trees by the lake. It was set ablaze, but the fire was quickly doused by the pounding rain.

A face appeared in the flickering embers. He turned in the direction of the house, but heard nothing.

* * *

 **A/N: A lot, again. A shout out to Kouw and ChelsieSouloftheAbbey for asking about possible Chelsie babies. Again, I'm asking for your patience with this story. I'm not going to make everyone happy, I know. But I am asking for you to stick with me. :)**

 **Coming up – the next chapter is entirely Victor's point of view. So you'll (finally) know what he's been up to.**

 **All of your reviews, reblogs, comments, etc. mean absolutely everything to me. Hopefully the website will start behaving itself again, but in the meantime, don't be shy.**

 **I love you all.**


	29. Hidden Fire

**A/N: I promise not to make these chapters so long all the time! The trouble with this one is that it was from a point of view you have not heard from, and I basically squeezed his version of the story so far into one chapter, whereas with the others, they've had almost thirty.**

 **Victor is a character I only had a vague sense of when I began to write this story. But as time went on, his personality became clearer to me. I will have future chapters that present his side of things. But for the most part he's going to remain in the shadows.**

 **The vast majority of this chapter is a flashback, interspersed with Victor on a particular day. I hope it isn't too confusing.**

 **Mythology note: I've changed the names of gods/goddesses partly to keep you guessing. A couple of gods are mentioned here where I call them by their actual (Greek) names. Athena was my favorite goddess when I learned about her in school, and I really didn't want to give her a different name. Also, Hades said he didn't want a pseudonym.**

 **And nobody contradicts Hades.**

 **I cannot begin to thank all of you for your support. You truly keep me going. To paraphrase the popular saying, you all add fuel to the fire. If you could leave a review, I would love it!**

* * *

Something was not right.

He felt it deep inside, like a bubble of air trapped within iron that refused to be hammered out, the object misshapen.

 _Eala._

What was she _doing_?

Oh, he knew she was near. Somewhere in fields close by. But he had yet to see her in the flesh since he'd taken mortal form.

Other than several fleeting glimpses in the fire. Then, her eyes held nothing but concentration. And the only words she used were practical. Having to do with baking bread or making cheese, mostly. Sometimes about sheep and the rain. Or the weaver's cloth.

 _As if she were some common, mortal woman._

 _Her_ _._

He shook his head at the ridiculous thought.

What had happened to the goddess? He would never have thought she would have taken to mortal form so well, if half the stories he'd heard were true.

Victor gazed into the blazing fire, pushing the bellows with more force than was necessary. Toby flinched as the fire burned hotter.

"Is-isn't that enough?" the boy asked timidly, his brown hair flopping into his eyes. The god grunted in reply, but forced himself to relax, slowing his movements.

It was not the boy's fault he had no recent knowledge of Eala. Or the other boy, Daniel's, fault. Certainly not John's.

It was thanks to John that he had heard anything of her.

The dark-haired blacksmith was inspecting a finished sword for one of Robert's men. He set it down and looked again over his shoulder, toward the main road where Anna would appear. Victor suppressed a grin.

 _He's very diligent in his work. But knowing she will be here soon, the man's got more than that on his mind._

He could hardly blame John. Anna was a real beauty, both inside as well as out. The young woman had always treated him with kindness, and a gentle respect. She _listened_ to him.

Unlike others he had encountered in mortal form.

Or in the divine halls, for that matter.

He sighed, pointing at Toby to fetch him a hammer. The boy got up from the barrel where he sat and handed him the instrument.

As the blows fell and the sparks flew, Victor thought of the goddess again.

Of Eala, Beautiful Lady, in the divine realm. Of the long shadow she cast in his memory, and on his heart.

* * *

 _He had always been something of an outcast. No doubt part of it was due to his appearance among the gods. His clubfoot, red face, and scraggly beard were not becoming. And there was of course his ever-present smell of the forge._

 _A blot surrounded by perfection._

 _Most of the gods regarded Victor only when they_ _needed_ _something – armor, bow and arrows, a helmet and winged sandals, a chariot, a throne. He could make anything, and his work was admired by those around him._

 _It was not as if he was treated with contempt by the others. Indifference was the usual reaction._

 _There were times when he thought others tried to reach out to him – the Messenger, for one. But it was not in his nature to make friends easily. There were some in the divine halls he had never spoken with directly._

 _Eala was one of them._

 _He thought he knew why._

 _When the King asked him to make a gift for men, he looked at the earth-bound creatures and saw something missing._

 _A mate._

 _Working with earth, he began to build one. But what should it look like? Different from men, certainly. He tried several attempts. Nothing pleased him._

 _Baffled, he went for a walk on the high mountains near the King's hall. In the distance Eala walked alone._

 _He heard her singing._

 _A smile played on her lips as she surveyed the valley below. Her long hair tumbled down her back, the bright strands glinting in the sun. One hand rested on the curve of her hip. Her bare feet walked across the ground, in a tread so light they barely bent the blades of grass._

 _Every part of her was beautiful, and perfect._

 _He finished the first woman soon after. Eala's vanity was flattered, knowing the new creation carried a little of her essence. But she thought the Blacksmith had simply used her as a model for her beauty._

 _She thought his creation of women was another point of pride to him. Another glittering ornament, a testament to the work of his hands._

 _Perhaps they had been at the beginning, like other creations of his. But the glimpse of Eala as she walked in the mountains stayed with Victor._

 _Hardly anyone guessed his secret desire, his hidden fire, except the King and a few others._

 _One of them was his closest friend. Athena the Wise was one of the few gods who gladly helped the mortals. She gave him sound advice, and when his temper was stoked, she could sometimes reason with him when others could not._

" _You should tell her," she encouraged him. "She will know it one day, even if you keep silent." A small smile turned up the corner of her lips, the reflection of his forge's fire glimmering on her helmet. "You, of all of us, know the danger of keeping your desire hidden. No one else has your restraint, to keep your fire bridled. But you also have your limits."_

" _I know," he agreed. "But I cannot tell her. Not now. She is obsessed with that-that arrogant_ _youth_ _, the Messenger-" he gripped the hammer harder, swinging it down. Sparks flew everywhere. Far away, fire poured from a mountain into the sea. People fled in terror._

" _I'll never make winged sandals again!" He snarled, striking the anvil again. "Marcas calls him Errand Boy, you know. The next time he flies in here, I'll nail him to the wall. He's terribly full of himself!"_

 _Athena sighed._

" _He is. Seeing him with her does not help your mood, my friend. You need to get away from here for a while."_

 _He barked out a short, harsh laugh. "From here? Where would I go? Not the sea! And I will never go to the Underworld – Hades can hoard his own fire!"_

" _You could visit the earth and take mortal form," she said._

 _Victor snorted. "Why would I do that? They know how to make and use fire already." The fact that it was_ _ **his**_ _fire that had been stolen and given to them without his consent still rankled._

" _You could teach them the skills you have. The smiths have much to learn from you." She smiled when he looked up from his work._

 _Living among the people had given him a different view of the world. Wherever he went, he was praised for his skill with the hammer, anvil, and tongs in the fire. He experienced kindness from strangers, which he never forgot. Despite enduring harsh words and treatment from some mortals, he returned to the earth again and again to teach the people there._

 _With his new perspective, he was able to bear his disappointment, though his temper still occasionally flared. Often when Eala took a new lover._

 _The worst of them was Marcas, Athena's brother._

 _He and the God of War had also been friends. They had often helped each other._

 _It felt like a betrayal when his old friend began an affair with the Goddess of Love. Victor's torment was extreme, as the two made no secret of their mutual passion. Marcas openly boasted of it among the other gods._

 _What really burned Victor was knowing his friend continued to seduce others, even as he wooed Eala._

 _Finally he could stand it no more. He ensnared the lovers with a net, while the two were in bed. His former friend laughed uproariously as the Blacksmith dragged them to the King's palace. Eala said nothing._

 _In the hall, Victor released the couple from the net, naked and exposed to the court there. It was the first time he had seen the goddess so close since the day in the mountains, long before._

 _She was even more magnificent in close proximity. When she caught him staring, though, her glare could have melted iron._

 _Their friends and family laughed. Marcas laughed with them. Until the two nymphs summoned by Victor accused the God of War of conducting affairs with them. Both, in their foolishness, were proud that they had turned the god's head from his far more enticing partner._

 _Although they were also angry that he continued to seduce Eala, and left their beds cold._

 _The goddess's humiliation and wrath were terrible. She bodily threw the nymphs out of the King's hall, one after the other._

 _Marcas roared that he had every right to do as he pleased. He moved to hit his furious lover, but she sidestepped his fist._

 _Victor could not remember anyone other than Athena trying to strike Marcas, let alone succeeding. The blow Eala landed on his face cracked the floor and shook the walls._

 _To watch Love and War go at it hammer and tongs had never been seen before. And never in the Hall._

 _The King himself intervened, stepping between them. Eala's friend Beryl dragged her to one side, and the King pulled Marcas to the other, with Athena and Victor keeping a hold on him._

 _The duration of Eala's affair with Marcas was closely watched by everyone. Her ardor had naturally cooled. It still went on for many years as counted by mortals, with ever-decreasing frequency, despite Marcas's attempts to win her back. The God of War's temper and frequent infidelity led to more blazing rows between the two that reverberated throughout their palaces. The rows then reflected on earth, leading to several wars between mortals._

 _By the time their daughter Harmony was born, Eala refused to be in her former lover's presence alone._

 _Victor was dismayed by the loss of life among the humans, the consequences of the gods' own behavior. He could not understand why Eala stayed with Marcas for as long as she did. And yet part of him thrilled at her fury._

 _She displayed a fire that matched his own._

 _Athena saw the warning signs. "My friend, do not pursue her," she said to him one day at his forge. "You and she are alike in some ways, yes, but that does not mean a union with her would be a good one. Think of what could happen if it ended badly, and_ _ **you**_ _lost your temper. It was bad enough when my brother Marcas lost his! Set the thought of Eala aside - that is my counsel to you. You would do well to heed it, if your own desire for her has not yet overcome your reason!"_

" _I will not pursue her. I am not such a fool," he said quietly, tapping at the white-hot metal. "She would not have me if I asked her." He swallowed back the bitterness that the truth left._

 _Everyone knew the Goddess of Love bedded anyone she wanted._

 _She hadn't so much as looked at him that way._

 _Ever._

" _But you will not forget her, either," Athena said gently, knowing his thoughts._

 _He set down the hammer and looked at her. "No. I cannot. You see all of this?" He gestured at a table nearby that held gold-plated armor, swords that reflected the sun. "The King often praises my work. He says that what I make is fairer than anything made by the hands of men." He pulled on his beard, shaking his head slowly. "But nothing I have ever made has ever compared to Eala. Or_ will _ever compare to her. I can no more set aside the thought of her than I can set aside my hammer."_

 _Rumblings of discontent echoed in the palaces of the gods. Marcas still seethed at Eala's rejection, and many gods and demigods jostled with each other to fill his place._

 _When Victor was summoned to the Hall, he thought he knew what the King's command would be. To make armor, or swords._

 _Weapons for war._

 _Instead, he was stunned at the words Eala's father spoke._

" _I have chosen you as husband for my daughter," the King said, his hands gripping the arms of the throne. "She_ _must_ _be married. This chaos must end! Otherwise, there will be unending war between those who desire nothing but her. You, Victor-" he leaned forward, his gaze direct, "you have the strength to hold them at bay. Marcas, and the rest. They will not challenge you."_

 _Victor blinked several times, licking his lips._

 _He knew that the King's will was always law._

 _But he never thought that it would conform with his own desire._

 _ **Eala will be my wife. My**_ _ **wife**_ _ **.**_

 _ **My consort. For all time.**_

" _You seem pleased," an amused gleam shone in the King's eyes. Victor cleared his throat. It was not often he smiled, and he could not remember ever feeling so…happy._

" _I am, Great One," he said, bowing low. "Thank you." He returned his eyes from the floor to the god watching him. "I promise," he said steadily, "that I will do everything to please her. I…cannot think she will be overjoyed with this news. It will be difficult for her to accept."_

 _It would be likely she would not take it well, if not outright resist it._

 _ **But she cannot fight her father.**_

" _Whether she accepts it or not, she will marry you," the King said. "She does not want to see needless death and destruction visited on the mortals again. Not on her account." He pressed his hands together, balancing his bearded chin on his fingers. "I know that you hold her in high esteem," his voice was soft. "In time, she will see that you care for her."_

 _Victor stood to one side when the gods assembled. It was all he could do to keep still, when he wanted to shout his joy._

 _Eala was silent for a long time after the King made the announcement. Victor watched her closely, trying to read her thoughts._

 _It did not surprise him when she asked her father why, but it did sting that she was so contemptuous of him, especially in front of everyone._

 _He ignored Marcas's smirk, the God of War's enjoyment of his discomfort evident._

 _When Eala accused him of not loving her, he wanted to contradict her. But he had no intention of revealing his inner secrets to the court. Gripping his hammer, he controlled his emotions, the tumult of joy, of wounded pride, of defiance, of happiness._

 _ **I will show you that my being is not merely the work of my hands. That they are what I am, what I cannot express in words.**_

 _All he wanted was the chance to tell her he loved her. Dismissed with the others, he left the hall, already picturing in his mind the gift he wished to make for her._

 _Back in his forge, he ordered the many bellows to move, and called his handmade automatons to attention. He was thoroughly engrossed in his work, the finely-wrought belt of gold with glittering sapphires and rubies before him, when Athena came in._

" _It is beautiful," she said, removing her helmet. "You heard the news?"_

 _He grunted, nodding. "Eala took mortal form. The Messenger told me." Shrugging, he thought he knew what she wanted to say. "Of course, I would have preferred it if she had stayed here. But she cannot stay there long."_ _ **Or forever**_ _, he thought. "It gives me more time to finish this."_

" _Did the Trickster tell you about the man?" Athena spoke the words carefully, deliberately. He straightened up, setting down the hammer, letting out a long breath._

" _I heard through the fire that she was captivated with a mortal," he said quietly. "Is it true? Do you know if the King put her up to this?"_

" _Yes, it's true. And no, He did not," she said, her eyes not leaving him._

" _So…this is of her_ _own_ _will?"_

" _Yes."_

 _He held his breath and closed his eyes. His intended, Eala, the Goddess of Love, the most beautiful and desirable creature in the heavens, on the earth, in the sea, and in the dark Underworld, besotted with a man. A being of fragile flesh and blood._

 _Part of him was not surprised. But part of him despaired of her ever containing her insatiable desire._

 _If not for his sake, then for the sake of everyone's peace. It was bad enough that they were to be married, and she still blatantly ignored the fact, but he was well aware other gods would not hesitate to destroy the upstart mortal, even if Eala initiated the affair._

 _It was beyond tempting to destroy the man immediately._

 _Snuff out the feeble flame of his life, as if he never existed._

 _But he restrained himself. It would not do to begin his marriage to Eala with her angry with him._

" _No doubt…" his voice trembled despite his attempt to speak clearly, "…a handsome youth struck her fancy, and she could not resist the temptation to amuse herself."_

 _A hot rush of jealousy surged through him, and he swallowed, tasting flames._

" _From what I have heard," Athena continued in an even voice, "she has_ _not_ _indulged herself."_

 _He frowned. What could that mean? Perhaps she was attempting to honor the betrothal?_

 _Or perhaps not._

 _But if that were so, then why deny herself? She never had before._

 _The decision to leave the forge, to assume mortal form once more, was not easily made. He could better see and hear what she said and did from the fire, as well as a few other sources, but Eala was well aware of that also._

 _She was careful to say nothing in front of a fire that betrayed what was going on. Of course, it was possible he just did not hear anything blameworthy from her. There were times when he was concentrating on details, and not listening for her voice._

 _Then there was the Messenger. He had sometimes visited the forge, but only to take or deliver news. Victor had never seen him so often. Neither ever spoke of Eala, but the younger god asked many questions about her gift._

 _His very interest was suspicious to Victor._

 _Or maybe Errand Boy was simply curious. He was known to be a curious fellow._

 _It vexed the Fire God greatly that Eala was trying so hard to keep her actions secret from him. He did not want to believe it was anything other than an affair, but it got under his skin like nothing else had. She had never concealed her passion for anyone in the past-_

* * *

"Joe?"

His head snapped up. John stood before him, a smile on his face, his eyes twinkling. "You were _very_ far away. Even for you, my friend. Anna is here."

The blond woman grinned widely, the gap between her teeth showing. "Hello, Joe. I hope John hasn't been working you too hard."

"Not a bit," he stood up a bit straighter, wiping his face with a dirty rag. "I-just had a lot on my mind."

"Well, your dreaming didn't affect your work," John said, bending over the intricate linked chain. "I don't know _how_ you do that, but – well, it's clear to me I still have a lot to learn from you."

"I can show you the detail now," the disguised god said. "If you like."

"Thank you, but no. It can wait. Actually, I thought I'd let you and the lads off for the day. And – me." John's face reddened slightly as he turned in Anna's direction. "It is a little cooler today, not as hot as the last few days have been. We all could use a break."

It did not surprise Victor. He never thought John would work on the day Anna visited. And the man was much too fair to expect anyone working for him to do so, when he did not.

He was secretly delighted by the timing. He had wanted to do some exploring, but had not had the opportunity yet.

Still, he had to maintain the façade. "That is very generous of you." He made sure to leave a hint of reluctance in his voice. "But are you sure? I would not mind staying at the forge-"

" _Absolutely_ sure. I insist, Joe. Leave the work for the day, it will keep for tomorrow. Go find a shady spot somewhere and relax. That is, if you can," John half-joked, looking at Anna. "He's by far the hardest worker I've ever known. I first met him – when was that, ten years ago?"

"Yes, that's what you told me," Anna said it with all the patience of a woman who had heard it before. Her eyes danced.

"And I've yet to meet anyone to equal you since," John touched Victor's shoulder. "In skill or energy. Go. You deserve some time off."

He nodded slowly, setting the hammer down, removing his leather apron.

"Wait, Master Burns," Anna said, reaching for a bundle resting on a barrel. "I got this for you in the market." She handed him what looked like half a loaf of bread, but at a closer look was shepherd's pie. He smiled at her, feeling the breeze cool his sweaty head.

"Thank you, Miss Anna," he said. "You're very kind."

"You are too, thank you," she replied, patting his arm. "Both Toby and Daniel have told me how patient you are with them." She bent her head, as if to tell a secret. "Even if your appearance scares them and the local children sometimes." Turning to John, she gestured at the wizened man. "Heart of gold, this one."

"Indeed," John waved at his partner playfully. "Now _go_ , so I know you won't stay around here all day!"

West of Downton, there was a small cave hidden in a cleft of rocks. A bubbling spring escaped from the earth there, the water cold in the shadows. On a warm summer day, it would have been a popular spot.

If not for the smell.

Victor sighed, splashing his face and arms, washing the grime off. The sulfuric smell would not ever fully leave him. He was used to it.

 _There are worse things._

 _At least I don't stink of fish._

He grinned, drying his face with his old cloak.

Unwrapping the pie, he sat with his back against a rock and ate it.

 _Bless Anna. Not many mortals are like her._

* * *

He had arrived in the mortal realm a few days before Midsummer. Instantly he could see the effects of Eala's presence.

The land was lush, beautiful, and ripe with life bursting forth. People were in high spirits. Couples blooming, enamored with each other.

In a village called Thirsk, he had joined a group of travelers, most headed for Downton. A local woman named Meg, obviously annoyed by their numbers but unwilling to give up the tradition of generosity to strangers, fed them outside her home.

From the rumors swirling among the others about Midsummer, Victor decided to go with them. He had visited Downton before, and knew the blacksmith.

He hoped John was still there, and had not yet gone to Elysium.

Victor sat along the road, a little separate from the rowdy travelers. Meg handed him a dry crust of bread. "Thank you," he said softly to her, but she only grumbled in reply, a little girl at her heels. He picked at the crust. There was a worm in it.

"Granny, he _smells_ ," the girl whispered in a loud voice. "And he's _ugly_." Her grandmother hushed her, then greeted another woman who was passing by. Their voices carried.

"Petunia! I never thought I'd see you here today!"

"I needed to get some cloth – Master Bill is clean out," the other woman, with frizzy grey hair, held a basket in her hands. "Downton has been overrun with travelers." She nodded at the group. "I expect all of you are headed that way?"

Several men nodded their heads.

"Do you live there, Mistress?" One asked. "Downton?"

"Close enough," Petunia nodded. "My husband Drake has a farm south of there."

More than one man spoke at once.

"Do you know-"

"Have you seen-"

"I heard the woman was a farmer-"

"No, Darren swore she was a weaver!"

Petunia laughed, evidently proud that she carried knowledge that was well sought after. "I know _who_ you're asking after. And I've seen her twice myself. A shepherdess, lately moved to the pastures west of us. I can tell you, the stories you've heard are true. Nobody can touch her beauty. Her name is Elsie."

Victor choked on his bread. The man next to him thumped him on the back. Petunia continued on, half talking to Meg, and half to the eagerly listening men.

"-skin blushes like a rose, her hair is every shade of the sunset. Eyes like sapphires, or so one of the shepherd's lads told me," she shook her head, raising an eyebrow. "One look at her from across our pasture and I told May, 'Drake's not coming anywhere _near_ her!' She agreed with me, said he'd lose his wits around her."

"May, your sister-in-law?" Meg asked. "She's seen her, too?"

Nodding, Petunia shifted the basket in her hands. "More than me. She bakes for the shepherd man, our neighbor Charles. The widower, you know? Some of the wool I brought you two summers ago was from his flock. His land borders Elsie's."

"Wait," a young man stood up, leaning on the stone wall. "A _widower?_ He's probably already bedded her – why should I waste my time at Midsummer?"

"If Charles has had her, he's hidden it well," Petunia said. "May teases him about Elsie, but she told me he said he hasn't touched her. She believes him, too. A hopeless liar, that man."

"He must either have iron restraint, or have a preference for lads then," Meg said. "If that's true."

"The restraint is more likely," her friend gave the young man and his companions a grin. "I've known Charles since he was young. He was married to his wife Alice for years. The poor man was brokenhearted when she died, as were the children."

Petunia encouraged the travelers to come to Downton. She spoke of the king and the court arriving, and the talk of Robert entering the competition. Of the crowds already gathering, the pilgrims along with ordinary travelers, the merchants and acrobats. The young men and women from as far north as Shackleton, and as far south as Crowborough. The travelers questioned her more about the shepherdess, about the competition, the feasts and dancing.

They ignored the old man who slowly chewed his bread.

 _Surely that is her. It can be no one else._

The rumor of a great beauty near Downton had spread, he knew, already to the coast and perhaps beyond. There was little doubt in his mind that the shepherdess was Eala.

But the talk about her neighbor was new to him.

 _What is restraint to a mortal? Their lives are mere breaths, gone in an instant. Over before the wind has chiseled away a thumb's worth of rock on a mountain. The earth forgets them._

 _What do they know about thwarted desire?_

Athena's words haunted him. About Eala pining after a man, and not bedding him.

On the walk to Downton, he wondered if she _was_ denying herself because of their betrothal. Perhaps not for his sake, but for the mortal's, whoever he was.

She knew what he, the Fire God, was capable of when his temper was kindled.

 _But would she be able to quell her desire? Or to not indulge her vanity, if a man openly lusted after her?_

Midsummer's Eve found him in Downton. Remembering the sulfuric spring at its western edge, he made his way there as dusk fell. He was glad to glean some news – John's partner Joseph had recently married, and taken the wheelwright's place. The blacksmith was in need of help, especially with the king's men nearby for the summer.

Asking after the sheep in the area, he heard several shepherds mentioned, including Charles. The first surprise he received was when the man was described to him.

 _Greying hair? Big nose? Bushy eyebrows?_

 _Eala would never lust for someone like that!_

 _It's someone else, then._

He slept alone among the rocks, despite the large numbers of people in the village. Dawn had long since broken when he woke. He smiled grimly to himself at the scant numbers of people moving about near the market, though more were stirring on the riverbank.

 _As much as I would be curious to attend, it would not do to be present at Eala's shrine on Midsummer._

He was sure she was there. But he could not risk her seeing him.

The main road through Downton grew crowded as the sun climbed higher. Victor did not mind too much. In a strange way, as often as he shunned the company of the gods, when he was in mortal form he found himself craving the company of others.

Even if they did not treat him well.

When a tall young man ran him over, he was only a little irritated. The day was hot, and getting a mouthful of dust was not pleasant. But young Daisy and Ivy helped him to his feet, and Thomas apologized, which was more than could be said for others he had encountered.

He nearly laughed when Thomas said he hadn't been looking where he was going.

 _That much is true, boy. You would not know it if a god stood in front of you. Even with your eyes open._

It was plain the young man was hostile towards the divine.

The young ones directed him toward John, and he headed for the riverbank. It was quite difficult, as the road was so crowded he could barely put one foot in front of the other. He was nearly knocked down before a man with broad shoulders caught and steadied him.

Tall. Bushy eyebrows. Grey hair mixed in with the black. Big nose.

He carried a crook with him, too.

Victor darted under a myrtle tree, watching the shepherd. Charles walked proudly, his head up. He did not look like a man who would be easily cowed.

 _He is strong, both in body and mind._

It still seemed very unlikely the Goddess of Love would pursue a man like that.

The second surprise Victor received was akin to a shock. Watching Charles in the crowd, his eyes suddenly fell upon Eala's friend, Beryl. Her husband and son walked a little behind her toward the riverbank, and the crowd of spectators there.

Disguised as they were, Victor recognized them immediately.

 _Now I_ _ **know**_ _Eala is here._

Not wanting to be seen, he quickly ran through the mostly-deserted village and back to its western edge.

There could be no reason for _other_ gods being present in Downton except for Eala already being there. Especially considering who he saw, knowing how close they were. Eala and Beryl were like sisters.

He wondered if anyone else was there. Harmony?

But he did not want to risk going back to look. The more of them there were, the likelier he would be spotted.

If he had not been already.

He returned to divine form and his forge. The automatons and workers he had constructed from metal still worked diligently, as he had ordered them to before leaving.

There was no hint that his presence as a mortal had been detected.

Still, he was glad he returned, for it was mere moments after he had picked up his hammer again when the Messenger appeared.

 _Again_ _?_

Thankfully, Errand Boy did not stay long. He left, seemly satisfied to see Victor working on Eala's gift. He did not even wait to hear the God of Fire return his greeting.

Or to see him vanish once more, to return to the mortal realm.

Victor left his chief worker in charge at the forge. Athena had teased him about his creation. _He is your twin in all but name!_

She was the only one who had never mistaken the metal creature for its master. The same could not be said of the other gods.

 _I hope he can fool them while I am gone._

 _I_ _ **must**_ _know what Eala is doing._

He returned to the stream west of Downton. It was late afternoon, still Midsummer. In the distance the crowd roared. More than once he got up to join them, wanting to forget the risk, but he always sat down again.

 _If she knew I was here, she would not trust me. For several thousand years._

 _Or ever._

Maybe it _would_ be better if he returned to the divine realm for good and left her to the mortals, to her lust and her incomprehensible desire. When she tired of it, she would return home. To him.

And they would be married.

He waited until it was nearly dark to move into Downton, when fires were lit and large groups gathered around them to feast, sing and dance (or all three). He thought that it would have been nice to see John, but no doubt with so many people about, the blacksmith would surely find help.

He felt a pang in his heart. Athena would laugh at him. _Sad to lose the company of mortals!_

To linger was tempting. A family from Merton shared part of their feast with him. Victor sat laughing with the grandmother and her sleeping grandson, watching the others dance around the fire under the twinkling stars and the risen moon.

He took his leave of the family with real regret. It was hard to leave behind the dancing fires and happy people, to stumble in the dark behind the abandoned stalls in the marketplace, to go back home where he was ignored.

 _They likely don't even know I'm gone._

At first he was not even sure he _had_ heard a scream – the music and general merriment behind him were very loud.

It was dark in the shadows, but the moonlight was nearly as bright as day. He saw clearly the young woman struggling against her attacker.

She screamed once more, a broken " _No-_ ".

The man hit her, a heavy blow to her face, causing her to fall heavily against the back wall of the weaver's stall before sinking onto the ground.

The next instant the man was on top of her.

Before Victor yanked him off.

"Run!" he croaked at the woman, who had stumbled to her knees. "Run, missy!" he called before the man went for her again. Victor grabbed his leg as he ran past and held on with all his mortal might.

"Damn – you – get – _off!_ " the man snarled. He tripped but stayed on his remaining leg, trying to shake the persistent old man who clung to him.

He could not.

"RUN!" Victor shouted. He hoped someone would hear him, that the woman would have the strength to get up.

 _If she does not, I will have to reveal myself._

The woman, trembling, got to her feet. She turned slightly, her eyes wide, and raced away from them. The pale light of the moon reflected her long, dark red hair.

To Victor's dismay, she did not run toward the crowds, but in the direction of the main road.

He had no more time to think about it before the man kicked him in the shoulder, making him gasp. He let go of the man's leg.

The glint of a knife flickered in the corner of Victor's eye.

"I'm going to kill you for this, old man," the man held the blade to his cheek. "Curse you, you _swine_ -" He went to plunge the knife down into his neck, but the blacksmith's strong hand gripped his wrist and stopped the motion before it reached its target.

They grappled for several moments. In and out of the shadows, neither able to keep a firm grip on the other, or on the knife. Victor managed to knock it away at one point, before grabbing the man by the neck.

" _You_ are the swine," he breathed into the man's face, looking in his eyes. This mortal, he knew, was the lowest of the low. A man who preyed on the weak. A man who would assault a woman for his own enjoyment.

His fingers clenched around the man's neck. He felt his pulse. One more squeeze and he would be dead.

With a gasp, the man lunged forward, head-butting him. Victor lost his grip. Before he could regain it, or his balance, the man bent down out of his reach. He picked up a large stone and brought it down on the god's head with all of his strength.

Everything went black.

* * *

When he woke up, his head pounded and his belly complained. He ran his tongue over his dry lip and tasted salt.

"Well, well. Old Burns. It _is_ you."

He blinked, squinting, glad that the room was mostly dark. "Master John? The blacksmith?"

The dark-haired man smiled. "Not _quite_ the same man as the last time you were here, but close enough." He gestured at his knee, then at his stick that leaned against the wall. "We both have scars now."

"What-what _happened?_ " He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. There was a sizeable lump there that made him wince.

"I've been wanting to ask you that question, but you've been out for two days. It was just fate I was with Richard when you were found."

John gave the blacksmith a bowl of hot soup, and cautioned him to drink it slowly.

Victor told him everything that he remembered. The woman, the man with her, the fight.

"That sounds like the monster who attacked those women," John said, his eyebrows furrowed together. "You didn't know the man, Joe?"

"No." He took another long sip of the soup. "I told you as best as I could tell what he looks like. He might be from here, for all I know. I'm but a stranger here myself." He frowned. "What do you mean, 'women'?"

John explained what he did not know. How he had saved one woman, Ethel, from her attacker. How she had first run in terror simply to get away. Then she had run to the temple for safety.

How after moonrise Lavinia stumbled into the firelight, terribly beaten and bleeding heavily, only to faint into the arms of the wheelwright.

Hearing the details of her attack nearly made Victor assume divine form immediately.

 _I should have killed him._

A search of Downton and the surrounding area had been made, but the man had not been found. Fortunately no other woman had been attacked. But everyone was on edge.

Victor was grateful to John for caring for him, letting him stay with him as he recovered. It gave him the chance to offer his help at the forge, which the blacksmith gladly accepted. Richard made him stay in bed for several more days to build up his strength.

"That was a very nasty knock you got," the healer said as he applied a new poultice. "I was certain you would never wake from it. But it seems you have a harder head than I thought."

The old man only shrugged. "I guess."

 _If I was mortal, I would be dead._

What had happened to both women sickened him. When Richard finally let him get up, he eagerly went to the forge. It was what he needed, to have _something_ to do.

There was plenty of work. First Robert's soldiers, and sharpening their swords, then making new armor or repairing the old. Ordinary men also came, for new swords or to sharpen ones long dull.

All the time, he thought of Eala.

 _It does not make sense. None of it! For this to happen_ _here_ _, so close to her temple and her shrine?_

He heard from conversations that the women stayed at the temple while they recovered. Of course he could not go there, but he was glad to know they were being guarded by trusted men.

 _Too bad the goddess was not present to guard them before they were attacked._

It made him wonder if Eala had returned home. That would make some sense to him, because the goddess he knew would not stand by and listen to prayers for help and do…nothing _._

 _I thought she had changed, especially since Harmony was born. Less vain._

 _Maybe I was wrong._

But the thought that she had reverted to her old self – like when she was with Marcas or other lovers, content to be admired for her overwhelming beauty, shallow as a basin, did not seem right either.

But if she had stayed here, why, _why_ , had she done nothing?

If he would have had the chance to go home and perhaps have a better vision of what was going on, he would have. But the forge was too busy, and he could not get away, not without arousing suspicion.

His own intuition was screaming. Around him, the land blossomed, the rain and sun were mingled together in perfect harmony, and the stars shone and twinkled in the night sky, alight with some secret he could not fathom. Had it not been for the fear that blanketed the kingdom, it would have been a perfect early summer.

It was obvious Eala was somewhere near. And he had a niggling feeling she was completely, totally, sublimely happy. Ecstatic.

It gave him a hollow feeling deep in his gut.

He wondered about what Athena had told him as he sharpened swords.

He wondered about the gossiping women in Thirsk as he hammered a new blade.

He wondered about the shepherd Charles when he went to sleep at night, and when he kindled the fire in the morning.

He thought about seeking out the shepherd himself, but the man came to him.

One hot morning, Charles came to the forge. Not to get a sword like the waiting men. Just to see John, he said. He remembered the old blacksmith, and was glad to hear that his children had treated Joe well, if not right away.

There was nothing to set the man apart from the others.

But then the god's ire was sparked by the reminder of his injury, and the fate of the women he could not save. He snapped.

When he hotly questioned Eala's will, the shepherd's face turned red in anger. He defended the goddess. Victor could not help setting him straight.

Later, he was glad John had been there and calmed him. After the two men walked off, Victor took out his frustration on a sword.

"Don't mind Charles," John told him that evening after they extinguished the fire. "He's a _devout_ servant of Eala. Of all the gods, really. But he's partial to the goddess." He shook his head and laughed shortly. "More than you. I didn't think it possible. He's married again," he said as they walked down the narrow path behind the forge.

"Married again?" Victor closed his eyes briefly. Feeling the heat inside, the fire that waited to be kindled.

"That's why he came by the forge earlier, to tell me. You know he's been a widower for a while," John explained patiently. "The last time you were here, Alice was still alive and Thomas and Daisy were small." He stopped, leaning on his stick. "I admit, it surprised me that he would take another wife. But then, I've known him all of my life, and I've _never_ seen him like this. He loved Alice, I'm sure, but it doesn't come close to what he feels for Elsie."

Victor bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood. He swallowed, feeling a burning sensation far back in his throat. A spark danced behind his eyes. John did not see it.

 _I_ _ **knew**_ _it._

"The shepherdess?" he asked, his voice soft. "The woman I've heard about? Charles…married…her?"

 _Breathe in, breathe out. Not too hard. You do not want to cause a scene._

 _If you breathed fire, John would certainly see_ _ **that**_ _._

"Yes. He must be absolutely mad about her. They made their vows at Midsummer, in the evening at the shrine."

 _Mad._

It was very quiet, the wind not stirring much. The evening sounds of the trees along the western stream were very peaceful.

The last thing he felt was peaceful.

"How appropriate for a devotee of the goddess," he said finally. "To marry on her holy day at the shrine."

He and John parted ways not long after. Victor walked to his small hovel in a daze. It was not much more than a small cave carved into the side of a hill near the stream.

 _Married. Vows. Midsummer. Evening._

The day and the time meant everything. It fit the signs in the stars. His belly clenched. If she was… _distracted_ that night, it was entirely possible that she would not have heard prayers for help.

 _Too lost in her own desire to help those she was meant to help? What sort of a lover_ _is_ _he? How captivated is_ _she_ _?_

 _Do not think of that._

He covered his face with his hands as he sat in front of his little fire. The thought of Eala, his intended, giving herself to another, tore at his heart. And a _man_ , no less.

 _But_ _marry_ _him? Why? She's bedded…I don't even know how many._

 _And she has never bothered with vows. The King never pressed her to join with one of her lovers before._

 _Because He knew she would not stay true to them. He ordered her to marry me to keep the peace._

There was no chance to see anything of her beyond the mundane. There were few fires lit on Charles's land. Most often, Victor saw glimpses of his apprentices.

But he did receive more news of the shepherdess in person.

Though John's old partner Joseph had taken over the wheelwright stall once more, his wife Phyllis made it a habit to come by the forge and bring them food. This task was taken over for several weeks by Daisy.

The girl loved her new stepmother, and talked of her often. The woman she described was a revelation to Victor.

Willingly watching the flocks. Doing the washing and baking. Sweeping out the house. Mending Charles's cloak.

 _Does she not think all of it beneath her?_

He stayed quiet when Daisy would chat with John or the lads. Sometimes if she knew a waiting man there, she would talk to them as well.

More than once someone remarked on Elsie's beauty. One such morning it was Daisy's neighbor Drake.

"My wife has yet to let me go near Charles's land!" he laughed. "Daisy, my cousin swears that if _he_ had been able to meet her at Midsummer, she would have married him and not your old father!"

"Not likely," the girl put her hands on her hips, frowning slightly. "She's been stuck on Papa since the day they met."

Victor almost dropped the hammer on Daniel's foot. The boy jumped back just in time.

"'Stuck'?" Daniel asked, handing the blacksmith his tool. Neither he nor Daisy saw the shadow on the old man's face.

"That's what Papa said," Daisy said. "The last time I was home. At the table, they were talking and she said something like, 'Are you really sure you want to be stuck with me? _I_ wouldn't.' And then Papa said, 'But that's the point. I _do_ want to be stuck with you.'"

"Who wouldn't?" Drake asked, his arms crossed.

"What did Elsie say?" Toby kicked his legs against the barrel he sat on.

Daisy's face went pink, and she looked down. "I…don't know. They were looking at each other like they wanted to be alone. So I went for a long walk. When I came back to the house, she was leaving to take the watch." The girl smiled. "I saw Papa kiss her. She laughed when I walked with her to the hill, holding my arm. She said Papa made her weak in the knees."

John smiled. Drake and the lads groaned.

"We don't need to hear that!"

Gesturing to Daniel, Victor left the hammer on the anvil. "My old legs feel weak," he said. He sat down where he would have a good view of the fire. "You try for a while."

It was not a complete lie. He did feel, for lack of a better word, weak. A sudden onslaught of fragility.

A thought had occurred to him. A terrible, incredible, _impossible_ thought.

He shook his head, wiped his sweaty face.

 _Impossible. It's_ _ **impossible**_ _._

But he wondered if what he thought was true. He would only know if he _saw_ her.

* * *

The day was fair as he set out after he ate his meal. He pulled his hood up before he left Downton. Heading south.

He did not dare to actually go into the shrine. Instead, he made his way through the thick trees until he saw the pillars, the extinguished torches at the entrance.

Eala's scent was everywhere. The wild roses, the touch of honey, the wild tang of the sea. Victor shuddered, leaning against a tree. It was nearly overpowering. Intoxicating. Seductive.

 _What her skin would taste like._

 _Who can resist her? Who has the strength?_

He was startled by the wind sweeping through the trees, the rush of birds that soared overhead. He ducked and pulled his hood further over his face.

Sparrows.

 _Hers. If they see me…_

He hurried back to the road, breathing the fresh air deeply.

 _I forgot how tempting she is. The gods find her irresistible._

 _Mortals do not stand a chance, even though her scent eludes them._

It was a good thing that her scent was more subtle to the mortals than his. If they perceived it as strongly as the gods, it would drive men mad.

Lost in his thoughts, he walked further than he intended. The mud houses of Baldersby were in the distance when he turned and walked back to Downton. He knew Charles's land was south of the village, and a little to the east.

Farms dotted the road. He saw several flocks, but their shepherds were not familiar. Then he spied a hill ahead off to the right. A towering oak crowned it, with a hut resting beneath its high branches. Walking past it, he saw a flock scattered on the hillside. Some sheep wandered near a cleft of rock. Another, smaller, hill rose on the other side. A simple house sat there.

Victor almost stopped in the middle of the road when he saw Charles. The shepherd stood on the hill nearer the oak, his head bent over his crook.

Darting across the road, the old man bent low before hiding in an overgrown bush. A small stream lay nearby, the water low in the summer sun. Victor was careful to stay out of the soft dirt and mud as he went up the hill toward the house. The wind was behind him. He swore under his breath.

 _If she is in or near the house, she will know you are here._

He dropped to his knees and crawled alongside the stream. Moving under the branches of the elm tree that shaded the house, he half-crashed into a wooden pen. He tensed, not moving, his face just above the dirt.

The only sounds were a surprised goat and her kid. He let out a breath.

Gingerly, he crept around the pen. The corner of the house was behind him, and the hill went up in front of him. A rock wall bordered the land on the other side of the stream. He had just got across and behind the wall when he heard voices. He ducked his head down.

"…lambs next spring? Or will you not know until the autumn?" A young man's voice. Unknown to him.

"No, we will not know until the autumn, and most likely not for certain until next spring."

The sound of her voice washed over him like a wave. He could not resist looking.

His breath failed him, and his heart trembled. The fire within him hummed.

She was altogether mesmerizing. Her hair down her back, the curve of her neck. The freckles that dotted her shoulders and arms. Even the way she gripped the crook in her hands. The young man said something, and she laughed.

The sight was enough to make him want to leap from behind the wall, jump the stream, and take her in his arms. Carry her away home.

But he only just held himself in check.

She held a hand half over her mouth, still amused. "As long I do not lose _another_ cloak, I think Charles will let me help with the shearing come spring! It was only in the floods that he was angry with me…"

There was a glow about her that Victor had never seen before. An inner light that shone in her eyes, one that he could see even at a distance away. She fairly radiated joy.

On a mountain long ago he thought he had seen her at her most beautiful. She surpassed her earlier self now by a magnitude he could not explain.

And he knew. He _knew._

He knew what he had feared was true. Though he had thought it impossible.

 _She loves him._

 _She who is Love, who gives it, but never keeps it for herself…loves him._

To bed a mortal was one thing. To marry him was another.

But to _love_ him, to love any one being over everyone else, was the absolute forbidden line. And Victor was certain Eala had crossed it.

The wind lifted some of his hair as he watched her. They were to his right, further down the brow of the hill. He was downwind of them.

Gripping the wall, he did not notice the rock beneath his fingers crumbling.

 _The King will understand. I will take her now, before she does any more harm._

The youth was of no account. Victor did not want to take a mortal's life needlessly, but if Eala's companion fought him, he would die.

 _If anyone deserves to lose his life, it's the shepherd._

His knees bent, the god was ready to jump over the wall when the wind shifted again. The scent of the goddess enveloped him.

It had been strong at her shrine. But this was her essence.

Seduction itself.

He leaped over the wall, landing silently on the other side. The goddess and mortal were walking away from him down the hill, their backs turned.

Taking one step forward, a sudden movement off to his left stopped him dead in his tracks. A sheepdog, previously unseen, had gotten to her feet. She looked in his direction.

 _ **Freya!?**_

Instantly, he was on the ground. Still. Silent.

 _Do not see me, do not see me, do_ _ **not**_ _see me…_

He finally looked up, his heart pounding out of his chest. The dog turned and wandered away from him. Closer to the sheep. He waited several heartbeats to make sure she did not turn again.

Then he ran.

The brambles that grew over the wall further down the hill tore at his cloak. In his haste to free himself, he left a footprint in the mud near the stream.

He finally came to a stop by the river at the edge of the village, his chest heaving.

The appearance of Harmony's dog had unnerved him. Nothing got past her. He was fortunate to have escaped without her chasing after him.

 _I cannot go back there. No chance of seeing anything more._

Or hearing anything, which is what he knew the King would want. Seeing Eala, assuming what he thought was true, would not be good enough to convince her father to bring her back. He needed _proof_ of her love for Charles.

 _Proof? Do you expect her to sing her love to the skies?_

She was too careful for that. The fact he had not yet heard anything incriminating told him she was not taking chances.

He sank down on the ground, watching the slow-moving water.

 _What will this do?_

 _The King will display a fury not seen since the Titans._

Robert's kingdom, not to mention Downton, would be destroyed. He was sure of it. The King of the Gods would not waste an opportunity to teach his daughter, and the mortals, a very sharp lesson.

 _Unless you say nothing._

 _You don't have to tell Him anything. You have nothing to tell. Not really._

He knew it was not out of a desire to lie. But one of mercy.

Several children splashed about in the river. Women washed clothing in the shining water. Two men fished on the opposite bank.

 _They do not deserve to be destroyed because Eala lost her heart to a mortal._

 _I lost mine to her long ago._

He had lost her before he had made her his wife. Or had a chance to tell her he loved her.

The pain he felt was palpable. Grief superseded his fury, dampening the fire.

Bubbling laughter of a woman reached his ears. He turned his head and saw Anna sitting with John, their hands linked. John leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips.

Victor sighed. _Someday, Eala, you will know what debt you owe to her._

 _For her and John's sake, I will keep silent._

The blacksmith was astonished when his partner told him he was leaving, later that afternoon. He begged him to stay. Anna did as well.

"Are you sure you have to go?" she asked, her eyes concerned.

"Yes," Victor replied. "I have – concerns that cannot be put off any longer. I am sorry for leaving you so suddenly," he nodded at John. "I do not mean to make things difficult for you, especially now that you are to be married." He rubbed his foot into the dirt. "I would have liked to have attended your wedding."

"Will you not return to Downton?" John asked, dismayed.

Victor looked at Anna. "I don't know." She gave him a slightly watery smile, and his heart ached.

"Well." John rubbed his hands together. "We will miss you very much, and not just because of the work." He extended his hand and Victor shook it. "You really are the finest teacher I've ever had. I'll try to teach the lads what you taught me."

"Thank you. I'm sure you'll do a fine job." The god gathered his tools together.

"Whatever your troubles, I hope you find answers for them." John led him out of the forge.

"If I could find them here, I would stay," Victor said, meaning every word.

"Perhaps it's best that you leave, then," John's voice was gentle. The Blacksmith turned back to his mortal friends.

"I hope so."

* * *

His forge was exactly as he left it. The Messenger had returned several times, but had not realize the figure working in the fire was not the Fire God.

Once, Victor would have reveled in his ability to fool the others. Now he was not sure he cared. He stoked up the fire, searching its depths.

A flash of lightning far away struck a tree. He blinked, looking into the pounding rain. The house was dark. He heard nothing, either from the divine or from the mortal he knew slept inside.

 _I will watch, and wait._

 _Let there be no more harm done._

The shattered embers of his heart told him suffering had already occurred. How much more would be endured, he did not know.

He sat alone by his fire and wept.


	30. Thanks and Prayers

**A/N: Just a reminder – I do not own Downton Abbey. I simply borrow Julian Fellowes' creation and change it into something unrecognizable.**

 **This is one of those chapters that the first couple thousand words were a struggle, then the last bit was written in a flood. I'm in the lets-get-on-with-it phase of this story, but there were a number of things I wanted to address before moving into the next part.**

 **Really, I can't describe what your support of this story means to me. If you have time, please review. Thank you, thank you,** _ **thank you!**_

* * *

Lady Mary sat still, her dark eyes looking into the distance. A myriad of emotions ran across her face as she played with her skirt.

"Well!" she said, finally looking up at the blonde woman before her. "What marvelous news!" Smiling, she raised an eyebrow. "I wondered if John would have the courage to ask you. Papa must be delighted – he sees your intended quite like a brother."

"Thank you, milady. But the king does not know yet," Anna replied softly, mindful of the other woman's moods. "I wanted to tell _you_ first. I'll write to John tonight, then he'll write to tell His Lordship."

A real smile appeared on Mary's lips, one that reached her eyes. "I don't often get to keep secrets that aren't mine. Thank you for that."

 _Secrets._ Swallowing, Anna felt a lump in her throat. "We have had our moments, haven't we, milady?"

"We certainly have." Mary's voice wobbled just a little, and her eyes softened. "I _am_ happy for you, Anna, truly I am. But it…won't be the same without you. Not here at the hall, and certainly not home at the palace."

"I'll miss being at court." She felt the tears coming and turned her head slightly.

"But I assume you won't miss Sarah," the king's daughter said in a dry tone, making Anna laugh.

"Not as much as the others, no."

"I will make sure you have something for your dowry," Mary said, sniffing quickly and dabbing at the corner of her eye. "Something that suits you. A bracelet, perhaps, or gold earrings-"

"Oh no, really," Anna protested. "You shouldn't go to any trouble on my account-"

"I certainly _will_. And you know better than to try and stop me! You deserve something beautiful. Of course," she tilted her head, thinking. "I can't ask John to do it. He should have at least one surprise on his wedding day. When will it be, do you know?"

Gathering up a few scattered pieces of cloth, Anna glanced out the window. It was a hot day with no wind. Under the great wooden eaves of the hall, the shade of the trees cooled the room inside. "Before the Harvest Festival. John is working on our house…" her cheeks went pink.

Mary smiled. "As he should be. We all should be able to attend the celebration then, since the court will not return home until afterwards." Sighing, she pointed at two different patterns in Anna's arms. "The blue, and the pale gold will do. If you wish to use any of it, you are welcome."

She got up, following Anna to the door. "I'm going to see George now. Write to John tonight, and send my congratulations." A sly grin played on her lips. "He'd better treat you well, or he will have _me_ to deal with."

The two laughed as they entered the main hall.

* * *

The long, hot summer days crept along. The wheat fields changed from green to gold and the fig trees ripened.

Daisy was ecstatic to hear of Anna's engagement. She was followed in her enthusiasm by Charles. He was very glad for the blacksmith. And he knew that Anna would be good for John, and he for her.

He had never forgotten what Martha had told him at Midsummer, and he was relieved for the young woman's sake that she had found happiness.

To his surprise, he received a letter from Edward shortly after the children's visit home. It had been sent both to him and to Elsie.

 _Thank you both for your warmth and kindness towards all of us. You did not have to extend it to either Sybil or to me, and I am very grateful for it. It has been a long time since I felt so welcomed._

 _Thomas told me what happened when we were there. He can be difficult. You know this better than I do. But despite his contrary nature, I know he does not mean real harm. I hope relations between you will continue to strengthen._

 _I shall do my best to remind him of the blessing of family._

 _May the gods continue to favor yours._

Elsie dabbed her eyes as she rolled up the scroll, and Charles cleared his throat. "Does he not know _he_ is part of this family? I know we can't tell him about Sybil, but surely he knows we care for him."

"If he isn't sure now, we should be clear the next time they visit," she said, handing him the papyrus. He set it aside, distractedly picking up another that lay next to them on the grass by the well.

"Edward cares very much for Thomas," he said. "That means a lot to me." Elsie touched his hand.

"He is one of the few who are truly pure in heart," she murmured, smiling fondly at the memory of walking with the young man, showing him the flocks.

"What does that mean?" Charles asked. He moved back so his back rested against the shadowed cool stones of the well. "I _think_ I know what it means, but I'd like to hear it from you."

"It means," Elsie let out a breath, "that he thinks of others before himself. He would sacrifice himself to save others. He is an innocent," she picked up another scroll with her name on it. It was Sybil's handwriting.

He glanced down at the scroll in his own hands. "I could not ask for more, for our son's sake. Edward is _good_ for him. Between him and Daisy, I have hope that Thomas won't always be so…angry." He smiled. "You called Edward an innocent. I've thought of that before, only of Daisy.

She exchanged a grin with him. "She is as well. There was never any doubt those two would get along!"

They were both quiet, listening to the sound of the wind in the tops of the trees along the stream.

Unrolling Sybil's letter, Elsie turned her head. "Who sent that one?"

"Mmmm." Charles mused, reading the handwriting. "The merchant, Harold. Martha's son, Cora's brother," he explained as she nodded. "The market in Staithes will take place after the following new moon. He's eager for us to bring our flocks. He says he's seen nothing like their quality since Midsummer."

"He's trying to flatter you, so you will sell him our animals." Elsie began reading what her daughter had written.

Sybil thanked them for their welcome, and spent most of her letter praising Charles. Elsie smiled to herself, making a note to let him read it after she was finished. The end of it relieved some of her fear.

 _I spoke with T several nights ago. Everything is quiet at home, all the same. The blacksmith's in his forge. T visited him again just before he saw me. The wise one was there, and the two were chatting, so T got some fresh news from her as well._

 _He said the blacksmith is adding rubies to the belt. His friend said there are rumblings that her brother is looking to stir up trouble again, but that is nothing new. T did say that even if there is trouble, it's far away from Downton. There has been no change with the King. His attention is still focused elsewhere._

"Sybil was very kind to me," Charles commented later that night. He wrapped his arms around Elsie's waist, kissing her cheek. "I should thank _her_ for her words of wisdom." Part of him still felt overwhelmed that the goddess thought so much of him.

Elsie sighed in contentment. "You make _her_ happy. And that makes me _very_ happy."

* * *

The next day, Elsie walked along the dusty road toward the village. The afternoon heat was fierce, and though the cloak was heavy, she was glad of the hood and the shade it provided.

She stopped for a short while for a cool drink of water. Phyllis, Bill and Daisy were glad to see her. She was reluctant to leave, but eventually walked with dragging steps to the temple.

She was fairly certain she knew why the priestesses had summoned her. And she did not relish the meeting.

 _Their anger would not surprise me._

Laying a hand on one of the doors to the great building, she took a breath, then went in.

The air felt blessedly cool. She removed the hood, then the cloak, taking note of the stillness. No girls prayed or worked, or even slept beneath the murals and altars.

Two figures stood in front of the elevated statue of Eala.

"I am glad you were able to come here so swiftly," Violet said as Elsie approached.

"I thought you had news of some importance," she replied steadily, "and thought it best to come as soon as I could."

"You must know what we wish to talk about," It was not Violet's quieter voice, or her hunched shoulders that caused Elsie a fresh pang of guilt. The priestess's face carried an expression of dismay that reached her eyes. "Charles was here not long after Cousin Isobel had received the Revelation from Loftus. If he did not tell you of it, surely you heard news of it from others."

"He told me of it." Elsie folded her hands against her waist.

Isobel could not contain her outrage, her brown eyes staring straight at the goddess. "With all due respect, you have put us all in terrible danger! I assume when you came here you had not forgotten that you had a fiancé, and that he is immortal! The last time you were here, you told us you had friends in the heavens who were keeping watch. Did they begin their guard before or after you remembered that your intended has a dangerous temper!?"

Violet reached over and touched the indignant woman on the arm. Her gaze did not leave the goddess.

"I should have told you of Victor when I was last here," Elsie said quietly. "I am sorry for that. It was _never_ my intention to put mortals in danger." She looked them both in the eye, leaving Isobel for last. "But much has been done to keep everyone safe." Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "I understand your anger that you did not know of my engagement until now. In regards to your fear…I am sorry I can do nothing more to assuage it."

"What are we to _do?_ " Isobel asked, still cross. "Wait and hope the Fire God does not rain down calamity on Downton?"

"And yet," Violet said pragmatically, "He has done so before in other places, with much less provocation. Our ancestors have always lived in fear of the gods. Why should we be any different now?"

"This _is_ different," Isobel argued. "This is a reason to destroy us, placed neatly on a golden plate in front of him."

The truth stung, especially coming from the priestess.

"I have told you before," Elsie huffed through her nose, trying to hold her temper, "I have concealed as much as I can from him. My friends are doing everything they can to protect me, as well as all of you. I am _aware_ of the problem, thank you, and am trying to think of solutions!"

"All life is a series of problems which we must try and solve. First one, then the next, then the next…" Violet's voice trailed off. "Until at last we die."

Isobel stared at her. "You _amaze_ me with your powers of consolation."

Stepping between them, Elsie put a hand on each of their shoulders. "I _cannot_ go back and change what is past. What is done, is done."

 _And I would not change anything._

"In regards to Victor, it is wise to show him honor. I have every intention of honoring our engagement," she said, keeping her countenance when the two women finally stopping glaring at each other and looked at her instead. " _After_ my marriage to Charles is ended." She waited a moment to let the ramifications of that sink in.

Isobel's face softened, and Elsie saw pity in her eyes. Glancing at Violet, she saw the same expression. She hurriedly continued before her emotions caught up with her. "A statue of the Fire God in the temple garden would bring him praise. There is no shrine to him anywhere near here."

"I agree with that," Isobel said. Her eyes met Elsie's before she lowered her gaze. "I…should not have spoken the way I did to you. I was worried about everyone here, as well as my family." A shadow of pain crossed her face.

"I forgive you," Elsie murmured, squeezing her shoulder. "It is natural to worry about those you love. I do." She and the priestess exchanged a look. An understanding passed between them.

"In the meantime," Violet said, "Let us do what we can to protect them."

* * *

The sound of crickets chirping from the lake reached the house at sunset. As the light faded, Charles glanced down at his wife seated in front of him next to the well.

"I've been thinking of something."

"What is it?" she turned, smiling when he bent his head. They kissed, slow and lingering. He pulled away, a short laugh echoing to the open doorway.

"None of that now. I shouldn't be distracted by my beautiful wife. This is serious." He took a deep breath. "I've been thinking…I really want to uphold the traditions like I used to. It's been too long since I prayed." He reached up, running a hand through his wild hair. Elsie resisted the urge to twist her fingers through his thick curls.

"You want to pray again? To the gods?" She held her breath. A small smile curved the corners of his mouth up.

"Yes. To all the ones I used to. The King of the Sky, the Wise Lady, the Sun and Healer. The Giver of Rain, the Goddess of the Harvest, the Messenger, the Lady of Peace, the God of the Underworld, the Master of Fire. Yes, him too," he raised his eyebrows. "I always did before. And, of course, the Goddess of Love."

"Of course," she said, her hand on his chest. "Why, may I ask, is she always last in your devotions?"

Charles looked away, the depths in his eyes clear to her, before turning back. "Because I always feel she listens closely to me. Like the most cherished friend would. No matter how I feel about my life, or if it feels like the other gods are sometimes deaf to me, she _always_ listens. Even when she didn't grant my prayers, I always felt that I could talk to her."

"She always has listened, you know," she whispered low. "And she always will." She got up, holding out her hands to help him up. "I'll stay out here and take a walk down to the road," she said quietly. "What you say to the others is not for my ears."

He nodded, and went into the house. An oil lamp burned near the cold fire. He carried it to the altar at the back of the room, and used it to light the candles there.

The prayers to the gods were mostly conventional ones, words he had memorized as a child. Occasionally he changed them, to add an extra petition, to pray on behalf of a friend, to ask the God of the Underworld to watch over those relatives who had left the mortal realm, including Alice.

He almost couldn't get the words out fast enough when he prayed to the Fire God. But if he thought the candles would suddenly erupt, he was not disappointed when they burned as steadily as ever.

Then it was Eala's turn.

Opening his eyes, he saw the small wooden figurine holding the rose.

"Eala, Beautiful Lady, it…it's been a long time since I talked to you," he said, his voice halting. Somehow kneeling alone in the semi-darkness brought back to him all his former memories. The figure outside, he knew, was his wife. The image in his mind was of a being half-hidden, shrouded in mystery. Powerful. Immortal. Divine.

"Please bless John and Anna. They love each other so much, and they deserve every happiness." He smiled, thinking of his old friend, the skeptic. _If he only knew the truth of the gods._

"Guide Daisy, and watch over her as she steps into womanhood. I…worry about her, and I know I shouldn't. It is a good thing that she's growing, but-" his breath caught. "-she'll always be my little girl. Watch over my boy, guide his heart. I know you won't ever leave him, no matter what he says or does," he said, one of the candles flickering in front of him, "But even if I never live to see him content, please let him be happy."

Tears spilled from his eyes and he had to stop for several moments. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. It felt so good to just talk, to breathe, to feel the presence of the Divine.

And know she was listening.

"Thank you for Edward," he whispered. "For Thomas's sake. Let him know that he is cherished by others as well." Letting out a long sigh, he was quiet, searching for the right words.

"Divine Love, I know I deserve nothing that you have given me. But I never dreamed…you would give me the gift that is my Elsie. She is so much more than my wife, my woman, my lover. When I'm with her, whether it's tending the flocks, asking her advice, or giving her pleasure, it…it's like I'm _home_ , in a way I never felt before. There was always something missing, something out of reach. Not something. Someone," he whispered. "And now I am whole."

 _And I think she is, too._

There was nothing else to say.

" _Thank you,_ " he breathed.

He sat back on his heels, drew his hands over his face, then stood up and blew out the candles.

Using the dim light from the oil lamp, he pulled back the hanging blanket. He had shuffled to the front door and propped it open to let the air pass through, and was laying down the sheepskin, when he heard her voice.

"Charles."

The way she said his name it almost sounded like a prayer itself.

She crossed the floor and blew out the lamp, wrapping her arms around him before he could turn around.

"My husband." Her voice was muffled against his back. It was not until he heard her sniff that he realized she was crying. "My lover. My dear, _dear_ man. Do you know how much you mean to me?"

"A little?" he asked softly. "A leaf in a forest?" In the darkness, he felt her hands find his as they faced each other.

" _Everything_ ," her voice was barely more than a breath, yet the word went from her lips straight to his heart. It expanded until it filled him. "You're welcome."


	31. Goodbyes

"Milady, you wished to see me?"

Cora looked up from playing with her grandson when Thomas entered the room. Sybil sewed in the corner. The room was very still, other than the sound of a fly buzzing in and out of the window.

"THO-MAS!" bellowed George, toddling over to him. The young man fought to keep from laughing, gently tugging the boy's hand from his tunic.

"I can't play _now_. I'm sorry, Master George," he said quietly, before straightening up again. Sybil stifled her giggling behind her hand, her bright eyes dancing. Cora gestured to the little boy before gathering him into her lap.

"Granny needs to talk to Thomas," she gave him a squeeze and addressed the servant. "I understand your father and stepmother's flocks are going to be sold in Staithes at the market?"

"Yes," Thomas answered. He wondered what it had to do with him.

"Well, my brother Harold will be there. I don't know if your father told you. Rather than send a messenger, I thought I could send my letters with you. I know I can trust you to deliver them."

Thomas's mouth went dry, and he felt his face redden slightly. "I-I'm honored, milady." He pressed his lips together, warring with himself over whether to say anything further.

 _I must._

"But…I cannot deliver your letters to Master Harold. I-I'm not traveling to Staithes."

Cora's eyebrows drew together, a line appearing between her eyes. "You're not? I assumed you would be spending time with your family before the court returns to the palace. Why ever not? If it's a question of the king not letting you go, don't worry. I will talk to him."

Mortified, Thomas felt his face burn. "It-it's not the king, milady." His eyes flicked up, feeling someone else's gaze. Sybil arched an eyebrow at him. He knew what she was thinking as if she said it out loud.

 _I know you don't_ want _to go, but that is not a good reason!_

"They-they don't need my help with the flocks," he stammered, giving the queen his attention once more, ignoring Sybil, who rolled her eyes. "Father and Elsie are only taking most of the animals there. They won't have any to bring back with them."

"All the more reason to go with them," Cora said. "There will be time to spend together without watching sheep."

Thomas could not find anything to say to refute her words. He merely nodded, then left when she dismissed him.

He fumed for most of the day.

Father had written, asking for him to go with them. He had not answered, hoping to send a short letter saying that he simply had too much work to do.

It was not true, of course. There had been several suitors of Lady Mary who had come to call. But now in the hot days of the waning summer, the hall was quiet. There had been more than one day that Robert had dismissed the young men for the afternoon. He had relished the quiet time with Edward. Swimming in the river, or walking in the cooler woods.

He _was_ sorry for what he had said to Father about Elsie. And he had been thinking more than he cared to admit about what Elsie had said to him. _"I_ _do_ _care about your welfare."_

He knew she meant it.

Part of him was tired of resisting the persistent whispers in his mind. Of feeling like he was a small boy again, who had picked up a stone to skip on the lake but had never thrown it.

 _Maybe it's time to drop it._

 _It's not that easy. Are you sure you want to?_

The last thing he felt like was being forced to spend time with Father and his wife before he felt ready. One day had been difficult enough. The journey to Staithes would take _days._ And then they would have to come back without even the sheep as a distraction.

But how could he have contradicted the queen?

If she spoke with the king, he was done for.

Walking down to the waiting fire on the hill late that evening, Thomas was disappointed that Edward was not there.

"A horse stepped on one of the lads this morning, so the Master asked him to help the grooms," Anna told him when he sat down. "The king's going hunting in the morning." She stared at the dancing flames for a moment. "Why did you tell the queen you weren't going to Staithes?"

He snapped his head in Sybil's direction. "That was none of your business! You had no right to say anything!"

"There's nothing wrong with visiting family," Sarah piped up from the opposite side of the circle. "Alfred's going home while they're away, and he's going to stop here to see me on his way back." A sardonic smile appeared on her face. "What's the matter? The thought of traveling so far with your dear papa and his bride not appealing to you? I can't think _why_ …"

"That's enough," Sybil said, with only a glance in the older woman's direction. "Don't tease him." She faced Thomas, her expression unapologetic. "Your father would like you to go with him. Why not go? Not just to spend time with them, either. You've talked about wanting to travel – well, here's your chance."

Thomas gritted his teeth. "I didn't mean going to the coast with _them_ , and you know it! Why is everyone trying to get me to go? Daisy isn't going!"

"Because after the court returns to the palace, you won't be able to go home until mid-autumn," Anna said, her voice blunt. "Maybe it makes _you_ happy to be so far away from your father, but try to think about other people for once!"

That hurt, especially coming from her.

He ran a hand through his hair and pulled at the ends. "The next time I see Edward," he mumbled, "I'm going to tell him not to talk about me in front of you. Or you," he said, glaring at Sybil.

"Sorry to be interrupting you all," they heard a man's voice behind them. Everyone shot to their feet.

"Your Lordship-" Sarah began to speak, but Robert held up his hands.

"Please, I don't mean to disturb you all. I just wanted a word with Thomas." He gestured for Thomas to follow him a few steps away from the fire. Edward stood nearby, having just come from the stables. He held a scroll in his hand.

The king glanced up at the stars, half-hidden by clouds. "What's this about you staying here while your family goes to Staithes?"

 _I_ _ **knew**_ _Her Ladyship would tell him!_

"Not my family," he said quickly. "Just Father and Elsie."

"And Daisy," Edward piped up, waving the scroll. "I just received a letter from her earlier today. Apparently Master Bill has given his consent for her to go as well."

"And I would be a poor master if I deprived you of their company," Robert clapped a hand on Thomas's shoulder. "Go, with my blessing. Her Ladyship is eager for her brother to get her letters. I know you'll be gone until almost the Harvest Festival, but we shall have to carry on. We'll miss you, Master George most of all," his eyes twinkled. "Have no fear that someone else will take your place, either. We will need you at the palace in the autumn, and for a long time to come."

In answer, Thomas bowed. The king bade him and Edward good night before walking up the hill.

When he turned back to those who sat around the fire, he was annoyed to see Anna and Sybil smiling. The two young men sat down.

"I'm glad for you," Sybil said softly. "It won't be as bad as you think."

"We'll all miss you," Anna's eyes were gentle, reflected in the firelight.

"Not _all_ of us," muttered Sarah.

He ignored her, turning to Edward, who had stretched his long legs out. "I don't know that I'll bother to miss _you!_ No thanks for that!" he pointed at the scroll. "You just _had_ to stick your oar in, telling His Lordship about my sister writing to you-"

His mate was unconcerned with his temper. "Actually," he replied nonchalantly, handing Thomas the letter, "Daisy didn't write to me. She wrote to you."

Thomas gaped at him, before looking at the broken seal on the scroll, his name scrawled there. "You-you _lied_ to the king? And read _my_ letter!?"

Edward laid back on the ground, his hands behind his head. "I didn't lie. Daisy _is_ going to Staithes with your father and Elsie. And she wants you to come along, too." He glanced at the stunned youth next to him, a grin on his face. "You always let me read your letters, and I do the same for you."

"You _devious_ little-"

Sybil laughed. "Edward's learned something from you!"

Thomas stared at him, feeling betrayed. And if he were honest with himself, rather impressed. He shook his head. "Well, you all got your wish."

He was stuck.

* * *

Elsie walked along the stream on the far side of the meadow. The wind gusted, sending a blast of warm air into her face, making her hair stream behind her. Sybil smoothed her own hair back away from her face.

"I wish I could go with you."

"Me too," Elsie reached over and took her daughter's outstretched hand. "You and I should go to the sea-shore one day. It would be nice to be there just to enjoy it."

To their right, the lake shimmered in the distance, the rippling water nearly obscuring Edward and Thomas.

"He's afraid of what he feels," Sybil said. "Thomas. He's afraid of losing someone close to him again."

Turning to look at her, Elsie raised her eyebrows. " _I_ could have told you that."

Smiling, Sybil squeezed her hand. "Edward has been wonderful for him in many ways. He'd closed himself off, unable to express any affection for anyone except Daisy and maybe Anna before they met."

"What about Charles?" Elsie asked quietly. Sybil sighed and bent to pick a pretty yellow iris, placing it in her hair.

"He loves his father. Even though he won't say so. There's been a barrier between them. The gods."

"And me," Elsie swallowed, feeling guilt wash over her. "As his father's wife. I am another source of dispute between them."

"Not as much as before," Sybil shaded her eyes with her other hand. "He doesn't dislike you as much now."

"Oh? Has he finally realized I'm _not_ trying to make him forget Alice? Then why is he still so…stubborn?" Elsie felt incredibly frustrated. Thomas had barely said a word to her, had hardly even looked at her since he, Edward and Sybil had arrived that morning. _If he doesn't_ hate _me, then why doesn't he try more?_

 _I know I have._

Sybil stopped at the crown of the hill, and Elsie stopped with her. They looked down over the sheep pen, with the flocks bawling from inside. The tree next to the house, its branches swaying in the wind. The sun turning the distant road golden in the late afternoon sun.

"He understands you're not attempting to replace his mother." Sybil's voice was so low Elsie had to lean closer to hear her. "He's not being stubborn on purpose, not really." She turned to look her mother in the eyes. "When Alice died, it was a terrible blow to him. He loved his mum dearly…and then he lost her."

Something in her tone made Elsie's heart skip. "Are you saying he's afraid of losing _me?_ "

"I doubt that thought has crossed his mind," Sybil gazed in the direction of the lake. "Not directly. But it would not surprise me if that's why he's not willing to risk caring for you. I know that's part of the reason he finds it difficult to show any love to Charles."

It almost sounded impossible. And yet it made sense. Elsie shook her head. _I'll have to see what happens._

"Elsie!" Charles's booming voice floated up the hill. They heard it before they saw him. He waved them down, closer to the house.

"What is it?" She asked as they got closer to him.

He puffed a little, his face red from the sun and wind. "Alfred is leaving now. He wanted to say goodbye to you."

"Of course," she said, relaxing. She let go of Sybil's hand.

The tall young man waited by the well as the couple approached. "Thank you for the food," he said politely when he saw Elsie. "It's very kind of you."

"You're welcome," she smiled at him. _Thank his appetite that he will eat almost anything, even my cooking._

Charles shook his hand. "How far are you traveling today? To the king's hall?"

"No, farther. I've got a cousin who lives in Ainderby. Jimmy stayed with him two nights ago."

The blond apprentice had left several days before. He would not be returning to Downton until the spring. Charles doubted he would come back at all. Andy had left earlier in the day, with considerably more reluctance.

"Be safe," Elsie told him. "Both on your way, and when you return."

He clutched his crook. "I will." He shifted the bundle he carried on his back.

"When you go through the village, tell Daisy I'll be coming this evening." Charles said. Alfred smiled.

"Of course. I wasn't going to leave Downton without telling her goodbye. May the gods keep you safe, Master. Mistress," He nodded at both of them. His bright hair shone in the sun.

"I'm glad he and Daisy are friends," Charles said under his breath as they stood watching him leave. "He's a good lad. But it'll be long past moonrise by the time he gets to Ainderby. First stopping at Phyllis and Joseph's to talk to Daisy, then I _know_ he'll stay at Richard's long past sunset."

Elsie linked her arm through his. She bit back a grin. "Ivy is a sweet girl. She'll miss him very much, I shouldn't wonder. Like Andy missing our sweet girl."

Charles jerked his head around, his eyes wide. "I know _they're_ friends, but Daisy is too young for-for _that_!"

"For what?" She could not resist teasing him a little. "Walking about with a young man? Taking a lover? Making vows?"

He sputtered, feeling faint from indignation. "What have they been _doing!?_ I _knew_ I should have kept him from her-"

"Oh, calm down, Charles," she pulled him in the direction of the house. "They've only talked. They've never even been _alone_ together. She would have told me otherwise."

"So," he looked at her, his face grim, "you _swear_ to me that they've never touched each other? That he's never kissed her?"

"I swear," she said steadily, not looking away. He relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief.

Of course as a goddess she had an obligation to keep prayers to her private. Charles did not need to know that his apprentice had been praying for courage and that Daisy asked Eala each night for Andy to like her.

* * *

The two stood next to the large rock below the brow of the hill. Edward held Thomas, his long arms around him.

"Don't go," Thomas whispered, his fingers tracing his mate's strong back. "Not yet." He pulled him a little closer and gave him another lingering kiss. Edward moaned.

"I love you," he whispered.

Tears sprang in Thomas's eyes and he wrapped his arms even tighter around him, feeling the beat of his heart. "I love you, too. Now there is no way I am going to let you go."

With effort, Edward took a step back. He traced his finger down Thomas's face. His eyes were gentle. "You know I don't want to, but I have to. Sybil and I have to get back to the hall."

Thomas hissed, looking away. "Why did she have to come? You could have stayed all night-"

"She wanted to, and I was glad she did," Edward's voice was firm, with only a slight wobble in it. A tear dangled at the corner of his eye. "I will not have to walk back alone." He ran his fingers through the hair at Thomas's temple, then pulled his chin up. "Now _promise_ me you will behave yourself. Think of Daisy. You don't want to make her unhappy."

Thomas swallowed and tried to make a joke. "And I thought you would give me a warning about staying away from other men."

"That too." Edward smiled, but it faded quickly. Thomas felt tears threatening again.

"I-I didn't mean it, back at the hall," his throat constricted. "I-I'll miss you." He sniffed, and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

It did not feel fair, having to spend the better part of the next moon with people he would rather avoid. Well, it would be nice to be with Daisy.

But Edward was his mate, his heart.

"I'll miss you, too." Edward squeezed his shoulder, his hand grazing his arm. He laughed lightly. "Of course you didn't mean it, I never thought you did!" Squinting into the setting sun, he massaged the back of Thomas's neck, their foreheads together. "I hope you will forgive me for my part in getting you here."

"Yes, of course." Thomas sighed, his arm around his waist. "Oh, I'll be fine," he grumbled under his breath. Edward kissed him again.

" _That's_ the spirit, my man."

They exchanged one last embrace before they clasped hands and said goodbye. Thomas watched him walk slowly down the hill. Sybil stood up next to the road where she had been waiting. He saw her put a hand on Edward's back as they walked toward Downton.

 _I wish there was someone to comfort me._

Father would return with Daisy soon, but in the meantime he felt terribly, horribly, alone.

He sat down next to the rock and rested his chin on his knees. Giving into his grief, he sobbed for a long time.

Something soft brushed against his legs. Startled, he opened his eyes. It was one of the sheepdogs. Freya. He was beyond grateful that the dog stayed by him as he cried, her steady warmth comforting him.

He never saw Elsie higher on the hill, looking down on them.


	32. Journey East

**A/N: A couple of apologies on this chapter. First of all, the length. The family is on their way to the coast, and the journey had to be described before the next chapter. I will try my best to keep the length down in future. I would prefer to post several small chapters in a short amount of time, rather than have one long chapter in a week. But sometimes that's the way it happens.**

 **Secondly, this chapter is rated M, as a precaution. I am trying to keep this story rated T for the most part. I've written other M things, and if you want to read them, please go ahead and do so. I am not going to make a habit of writing M for this story; it was never my intention to do that.**

 **Your reviews, reblogs, and comments give me life! Please continue to do so if you have time. Thank you.**

* * *

It was still dark, fog shrouding the house and the surrounding hillside in mist. Elsie yawned, shuddering, pulling her hair out of her face. Freya and Charles's dog Ve drove part of the gathered flock slowly into the wagon past her, while Remme guarded the others in the pen with Charles. When all the sheep were inside, she latched the back of the wagon secure.

 _Praise be to the Master of Fire_ , she thought sincerely, glancing at the torch she carried. _It would have been impossible to do this now, without him._

Otherwise, they would have had to wait for dawn and the fog to break up. But they were eager to leave and begin the long journey to the coast.

Charles exited the pen, Remme right behind him. "I woke them earlier, but can you check on them?" he asked quietly. "Drake will be here soon. I want to leave as soon as possible after I talk to him."

Elsie nodded and handed him the torch. She made her way around the house in the thick fog, feeling the stone against her left hand. Daisy sat in the doorway holding an oil lamp.

"He's coming," She gestured inside the house. "Trying to find all the water skins." They both turned at the sound of a loud curse. A moment later Thomas appeared, his face pale in the lamplight.

"Stubbed my toe on the hearth, that's all," he growled. He walked past them in the direction of the well. Daisy got up and followed him, holding the lamp as he filled the skins.

Elsie went into the house. She had swept it out the day before, wrapped all the food they could carry with them, and discarded the rest. She rolled up the sheepskin and picked it up. It was a good thing she knew their home so well, even in the dark-

" _Ouch!_ " She bit her lip as her toe throbbed. Leaving several choice words hanging in the still air, she went out, shutting the door behind her.

The fog had turned from black to grey.

Charles and Thomas lifted the water skins into the wagon, covering them with a cloth. Later on, they would not care if the water was hot or cold, but they wanted it kept as cool as possible. They then put a covering over the sheep.

Daisy crouched down next to the pen. Remme nuzzled the side of her face, and she couldn't help laughing. "Your nose is cold," she grinned as the dog licked her. She hugged her close, petting her soft fur, scratching her ears. "I will miss you. I hope you won't be _too_ lonely." Freya approached them, and Daisy let go to let the dogs greet each other.

Remme whined as Freya nudged her, whimpering. Daisy sighed and stood up.

"What are they doing?" Thomas appeared out of the mist at her elbow, and she jumped in fright. He laughed, patting her on the head just to annoy her. She pushed off his hand.

"Saying goodbye. It's so _sad_."

An uncomfortable feeling settled into his belly at her words. He saw the older dog, Freya, licking Remme's face. It reminded him of a mother bidding farewell to her child, and the open distress between the two brought him back to the evening before, when Edward left.

 _And when…_

The last thing he wanted to think of was his own weakness. He pulled on Daisy's arm.

"They're just _dogs_. Come on, Father's nearly finished."

"I wish we could take Remme too," Daisy mumbled beside him. "She'll be all alone here with just a few sheep, and Master Drake's son Jacob."

"We can't take all three dogs with us," Thomas rolled his eyes. "There are still sheep to watch. Besides, you know Drake's lending his horses to Father, and he and Jacob will be using Remme to hunt as well. There had to be a fair trade."

Daisy sniffed, rubbing her eye. He swallowed. _Think of Daisy, Edward said_. Gingerly, he put a hand on her shoulder. "She'll be here when we get back. And happy to see you, more than anyone else."

Lamps were lit and hung at the corners of the wagon. The horses were in position, and Elsie already sat in front. Charles held out his hand and helped his daughter up. "Here, lass, in you go." He half-lifted her into the wagon, where she sat down. A long wooden plank divided a small area from the rest of it, where the sheep bawled.

Charles handed Thomas a hat. "Time to go, lad." He clapped him on the shoulder, an affectionate gesture.

He was so glad for them to be together. If Sybil could have come along, it would have been perfect.

Thomas looked down at the wide-brimmed hat in dismay. "I'm not wearing this." He hated hats. Hated the way he looked wearing them.

"When the sun's high, you might change your mind." Charles climbed up to the high seat next to Elsie, handing her the reins, as Thomas tossed the hat into the wagon, then tumbled in next to Daisy.

"I'll never be able to sleep here," he whispered to his sister, stretching his legs out as much as possible next to Ve and Freya. "It reeks of sheep!"

They both were asleep before the sun had come up.

* * *

The land east of Downton was less hilly, and became more open as they went on. Trees were scarce. By late morning on the first day, Thomas relented and wore the hat. Better, he told Daisy, to look a fool and wear it, than to not wear it and be blistered by the sun.

They traveled on through empty moors and scattered fields, only occasionally meeting others. They left the kingdom on the second day and entered Painswick. A day later, they finally came upon a lone tree with shade. There, they let the sheep graze for the second time that day. After a quiet meal, Charles spread out the sheepskin and went to sleep.

Thomas looked up from watching the sheep when Daisy sat down by him. "I thought you'd gone to the stream with Elsie."

She shrugged. "I started to, but then decided to keep you company for a while." Her eyes were wistful. "Once the court returns north, I won't see you until mid-autumn. If that."

He felt a lump in his throat. "I don't know why you're so nice to me." He gazed out at the wandering sheep, the colorful sky to the west. "I know I don't deserve it."

Daisy put her hand over his. "You're my brother. Even if you aggravate me sometimes." She nudged him playfully, and he did the same back to her. "Besides," she said, avoiding his elbow again, "I want to stay on Edward's good side, and I can't do that if I'm mean to you!"

"Oho," he grinned. "So it's not me, but him you favor! I should have known!" They scuffled for several moments before stopping, Daisy's fits of giggles becoming contagious.

Thomas laid on his side on the ground, laughing. It felt really good to laugh. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done so, not with a relative, anyway. Daisy shook her head, still giggling. A ewe bawled a short distance away.

"Where's Freya?"

Looking at the flock, Thomas frowned. "I thought she was over there…" his voice trailed off as he scanned the area. He got up. "That's odd. She _never_ leaves the sheep unless Ve is keeping watch."

He and Daisy stood, turning in a circle. The horses were tethered on one side of the wagon. It sat near the tree behind them. Charles slept under its branches.

Squinting, Daisy leaned forward, pointing. "What's that? Under the wagon."

"Stay here," he told her, moving forward. Whatever it was, it was moving rather frantically. He was almost right next to the wagon, half-bent over to see under it, when he stopped.

His face went red, and he turned around, nearly knocking his sister over. "I told you to stay over there!" He grabbed her arm for balance. She craned her neck, trying to see around him.

"What _is_ it?"

"Nothing," he growled, trying to pull her away. "Nothing dangerous."

Daisy was too quick for him. She leaned around Thomas, her view unobstructed. Underneath the wagon, Ve and Freya were engaged in activity, oblivious to all else. Her eyes went wide and she held a hand to her mouth to keep in a nervous giggle. "Oh…"

"I told you, it was nothing dangerous," he dragged her after him, annoyed that she'd seen anything.

"Thomas," she said as they sat back down to watch the flock. A knowing smile was on her face. "Did you think I don't _know_ what the dogs are doing? Obviously, they _like_ each other-"

He groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Don't remind me. I'm trying to forget what I just saw, thank you. Father's going to whip Ve tomorrow."

"Why?" She asked. "That doesn't make any sense. Do you think Mother will whip Freya?"

"She should," he said, feeling disgruntled at Daisy's calling Elsie Mother. "Those dogs have been around each other since the spring, why they're in heat _now_ …"

"Because it's hot outside?" Daisy snorted next to him.

He rolled his eyes, raking a hand through his hair. "Who knows?" He huffed out a breath. "I was afraid I'd see Father and Elsie a little too cozy to be honest, not the _dogs_."

There was silence next to him. He glanced at Daisy, who glared at him. "Sorry," he said. "I should not have said that."

"No, you shouldn't have," she thumped him above his ear hard, and he winced. "Especially because they've barely touched each other since we left home. And I know it's because of _you_. They're probably afraid to set you off."

"Oh come on," he groused, rubbing the sore spot on his head, "I should not get the blame for everything! It's not like they would do that sort of thing in front of you when _you're_ home." He raised his eyebrows when her face got pink. "Do they?"

"Of course not!" She cried. "But they-" she yanked at a tuft of grass, blushing. "-They are very loving towards each other. Holding hands, that sort of thing."

In reality, she could hardly remember seeing the couple together _without_ them touching. Mother, going to see Papa in the meadow, her fingers grazing his shoulder and caressing his hair, as he sat beneath the ash tree. Papa's hands on his wife's waist as she kneaded dough, kissing behind her ear. The quiet glances that were only between them. It all had become so common to Daisy that she was used to it.

It was strange for them not to be openly affectionate with each other. She thought it had to be Thomas being around that kept them apart.

"I've seen them kiss," she added, hoping her brother would not say anything untoward. He did not, only sucked in his breath between his teeth. "But not since we left, either. I…I'm sure they haven't done anything while we're traveling." _They haven't had the chance to be alone,_ she thought.

He knew what she meant, and squirmed with embarrassment.

"What do you want me to do about it?" He finally asked. "I can't bloody well _say_ anything, and I hope they don't either."

She wound the ends of her hair through her hands. "Maybe…let them know you don't mind."

Gripping the crook, he bit his tongue to keep from saying something he would regret. He _did_ mind. Very much. But even he realized putting a restraint like that on them was beyond unfair. "And how do I do that?" He asked finally, struggling with the words. "How do you?"

 _I cannot believe I am speaking about this. With my baby sister._

"Well," she said slowly, "sometimes when I'm at home, and I know they…want to be alone, I leave. And I tell them where I'm going. To visit May, or to take a walk in the meadow. Whatever I do, I make sure to be gone for a while."

"We're not _at_ home," he said unnecessarily. He did not want to ask her what it looked like when it was obvious their father and Elsie wanted to be alone together.

He really didn't want to know.

"No. But we'll be traveling for several more days. If a chance comes, give them some time. That's all I ask." She raised an eyebrow. "If Edward was with us, they would do the same for you."

He could not argue with that. He knew she was right.

* * *

They made good time traveling across Painswick. At a crossroads the next day, they encountered a large caravan which was also headed to the coast.

"You'll make better time than we will," the merchant at its head told Charles. "I can save you the trouble of taking your animals that far." He offered a good price for the flock. It was tempting to accept it, but Charles knew there would be more offers later. Harold had promised a better price as well. He declined.

As they got closer to the king's palace, more people appeared on the roads. Thomas quickly bathed in a small river. The king had sent a message along with him, to give to his sister Rosamund.

"You're only delivering a message to her," Daisy said as he stood next to the wagon, stripped to the waist, arranging his wet hair. "I'm sure she's had messengers much dirtier than you show up at her door. Edward would say you're vain."

"This is not about vanity," Thomas snapped, straightening up. "It is about representing the king well, in a different country. Lady Rosamund will likely send a message back _with_ me, and the last thing I want is for her to say something rude about his servants."

Perhaps when he first entered the king's service, it was about vanity. But in the time he had spent at court, he had learned about the importance of representing the king well. How he appeared reflected on Robert.

All good servants thought the same of their masters. If their masters were worthy of respect.

"It's like Father's apprentices," he explained after he had put on a clean tunic. "When they behave well, it means they respect themselves, and respect him. When they don't, it reflects poorly on him."

"I never thought of that," she said. He looked straight at her.

"There's much of the world you don't know, little sister."

He could have said the same about himself.

Travelers with different dress, different customs, and sometimes different languages were seen and heard on the road. Men with tattoos on their arms, wearing beards. Charles saw one wearing strange shoes, nothing like sandals. They covered his feet completely and went above his knees.

Women wearing bright colors, showing off more of their bodies than Daisy had ever seen. Others wore veils, their faces covered. Charles glanced at his daughter, and murmured for her not to stare. "They have their custom, and we have ours." He looked at Thomas, who was pale despite the sun. The king's gate was visible nearby.

Charles stopped the wagon and got off, helping Elsie and Daisy get down. They were close enough to the gate that he felt secure in leaving the wagon. It was near midday, and many of the travelers were searching for scant shade. Along the wall there were several tall trees, their leaves limp in the humid air.

Thomas walked ahead of his family, Robert's scroll in his hand. He asked at the gate for entrance. The guard sneered, looking him up and down.

"And why should I let you in? Marmaduke is a great ruler, he does not let every beggar into his house!"

"I have a message for the queen from her brother. From Downton," Thomas said evenly, keeping his temper.

The man roared with laughter, leaning on his spear. "Do you hear this, lads? This whelp has a message for the _queen_." Several of the others joined him.

"If there is a message for me, I would like to see it."

A group of women had approached from the road. They all wore hoods, and veils that covered their faces. Only their eyes could be seen. A tall woman with light blue eyes stood in front of them. Thomas bowed.

He recognized those eyes. She was Violet's daughter through and through.

"Milady," the guard bowed as the others came to attention. "This boy claims to come from Downton."

Lady Rosamund stepped in front of Thomas. "Do you?"

"Yes, milady," he held out the scroll. "His Lordship sent this letter with me. He instructed me to tell you that your mother, the queen, Lady Mary, and Master George are well. He prays to the gods that you and the king are in good health, and that fortune favors you always."

Standing behind him, Charles and Elsie shared a glance. They had never seen Thomas in his role as a servant, and they both felt a surge of pride in his demeanor. Gone was the cocky, moody boy. In his place stood a confident, but not arrogant, young man. Charles swallowed, and felt Elsie's hand slip into his.

 _He knows who he is. He belongs at court._

Rosamund took the scroll and removed her veil from her face. "Robert is the fortunate one. Finding a worthy man to serve one's house is a rare gift."

The guard glowered at Thomas's back, and Daisy fought back a grin.

"What is your name, young man?" The queen asked.

"Thomas, milady," he replied.

"Thomas," she held up the scroll. "Thank you for delivering this. Did you travel all this way alone?"

"No, milady." He gestured behind him and the other three came forward. "My family and I are on our way to Staithes."

It was natural on the one hand to refer to them as his family. On the other, he had never included Elsie in his description of them either.

 _I can hardly leave her out in front of Father and Daisy._

Rosamund's eyes fell on Charles. A warm smile appeared on her face. "Welcome, Master Shepherd. It has been a _long_ time."

Charles bowed. "I didn't know if you would remember, milady." Truthfully, he was surprised she did. He had not seen her since before Thomas was born, before she married and left the kingdom.

"You fought alongside my brother bravely," she said. "He, and I, will always remember your loyalty. And your father's loyalty. He answered my father's call, even though he did not want to go to war." Her eyes softened. "The gods have their own ways. I wish, for your sake, they would have allowed him to come home. Like mine did."

His chest tightened a little at the memory. "Thank you."

"But I see the gods have blessed you in other ways," she gestured at Thomas. "I should have known he was your son. He has your bearing. And who is this? Your daughter?"

Charles put his hand on the girl's back, and she stepped forward, removing her hood. "Daisy, milady."

"You are a credit to your father," Rosamund said. "Cora wrote to me that you are apprenticed to a weaver?" Daisy nodded. "No doubt you will be a fine one." She smiled at Daisy, who smiled back. She then turned back to Charles. "Robert, Cora and my mother wrote that you had remarried. Apparently it took them all by surprise. Even Mother, and you know how difficult that is." Her eyes twinkled. "Congratulations."

He smiled proudly, taking one step aside, letting Elsie step forward. "This is my wife, Elsie."

Rosamund stared at the woman before her. Fear flickered in her eyes for an instant when Elsie lifted her eyes to hers. "My sister-in-law sometimes exaggerates," she said, "But my mother rarely does. Welcome, Shepherdess. I wish you joy."

"Thank you, milady," Elsie answered, keeping her eyes on Robert's sister. _Like her mother, this one. There is little she does not see._ Behind the queen, there was a murmur among her servants.

"Would you all stay and eat with me?" Rosamund asked. Her question was directed at Charles, but her eyes stayed on his wife.

"We would be honored," he said. He was very surprised she would invite them to her table, but he did not feel it would be proper to refuse.

Rosamund had the guards open the gate. She allowed Elsie to drive the wagon through it, and insisted they let the flock and horses graze for a while on the king's land. Several servants brought out food. She then dismissed all of the attendants a short distance away, and ordered that they feed Thomas and Daisy before themselves.

It was evident to Charles and Elsie that she wanted to speak with them alone. She did not even keep a boy to pour the wine or serve the food, insisting on doing it herself.

"I know it is not customary for the king or his court to dine with subjects, except on the holy days," Rosamund said, breaking the bread, "but the king is hunting today, so I do as I please."

Charles could not hold back a smile. "You always have, milady."

She laughed, her reddish curls bouncing against the side of her face beneath her purple hood. "My mother will _not_ be pleased to hear it, but do tell her when you return home. My table is richer than my brother's, but he more often has better company than I." She sighed ruefully.

Along with the fresh bread and fish, there was also quail, venison, eggs, plump grapes and large strawberries. The wine was so good after one sip from his cup Charles told himself he would only drink what he had, and no more. Fortunately, the queen only filled his cup once after it was empty.

"This is the king's finest," she said. "I am happy to share it with you and your wife."

She and Charles talked of the kingdom, of Downton, of Robert and his family as they ate. Elsie was mostly silent. The queen, she felt, had something on her mind.

It did not take long to make itself known. When the talk turned to Violet and Isobel, Rosamund grew pensive.

"Has there been much talk of the Revelation at Eala's temple?" she asked, brushing her hand along the green grass. Her tone was casual, but Elsie knew she was more curious than what she sounded.

"Some," she looked at Charles, silently telling him to let her speak. "More surprise that one came at all, than what it contained, I believe."

 _Except for the priestesses._

"That is not what has happened here," Rosamund looked up. "The priests in Loftus were overjoyed. Marmaduke and I went to the temple there shortly after the Revelation had been given. _Thousands_ of people came to offer prayers. Both to the Fire God and to the Goddess of Love. I know Downton has long been accustomed to having many pilgrims, especially at Midsummer," she brushed aside a curl of hair, "but we were not so fortunate as to have a popular icon here. The Revelation changed that. Many people consider the Master of Fire to be a powerful ally, and with Eala as his bride, He has come into favor among many devout people."

"I am sure in time the Revelation will have as great an effect on Downton as here," Elsie said quietly. "The worship of Eala is different than that of the Fire God. They are… _very_ different beings."

"Have new rituals been established by the priests?" Charles asked. "I noticed many women, including you and your servants, wearing veils. Such a thing was common with devotees to the Fire God when I was small, though I never knew why."

"They have not made it official, but the custom has returned," Rosamund sighed. "Both because of the Revelation, and because of the unfortunate events that happened in Downton at Midsummer. There was great fear of women being violated in a similar fashion. It has not happened here, but I did hear of another incident in Shackleton, as well as Lady Edith telling me of some poor woman in Hexham. But that is far enough away that it was likely the doings of another man. As to why our ancestors began wearing the veil, you could ask the priests in Loftus. They would know."

She encouraged the two to eat more, before calling for her servants to wrap some of the extra food for them. Charles tried to protest, but Robert's sister was not dissuaded. "With all the pilgrims traveling to and from the coast," she said, "more than one traveler has been cheated by an unscrupulous seller. If your family will not eat it, then please give it away."

Charles went with Thomas to gather the flock once more. Daisy chatted cheerfully with two servant girls beneath a pretty willow tree. Elsie began to walk in her direction.

"Shepherdess." Rosamund's voice was low as she turned from speaking with one of her servants. In her hands were two pieces of cloth. "I know it is not the custom for you and Daisy to wear the veil when you are home, but please take these to wear. I would hate for anything to happen to either of you while you were traveling."

"Thank you," Elsie clasped her hands together. "I appreciate your concern, but we have Charles and Thomas with us, as well as two very loyal dogs."

"All the same," the queen tapped the cloth. "I would advise you to take them, and for you to wear one until you are back in my brother's kingdom. And Daisy as well. Robert may not worry about danger in his kingdom, and maybe at home you don't have to. But there are many strange people on the roads, some more dangerous than men simply wanting to get rich. Rumors of a beautiful woman in Downton have spread far, even to the coast. And beyond." Her eyes searched Elsie's face. "My mother usually goes into great detail when sending me news. She told me Charles had married the greatest beauty she had ever seen, but nothing more. I will not ask you why she said very little, but something tells me you know the reason."

"I do," Elsie said plainly. "But I cannot say any more than that." She thanked Rosamund for the veils and took them, albeit with some reluctance.

It was wise, she felt, to be careful.

The queen told the family goodbye at the gate. She asked that they stop at the palace on their way home. "I will have a letter for my brother to give you," she told Thomas. "And likely more."

He promised to return, and they continued traveling east.

* * *

Charles had hoped to get to Loftus by the evening, but the roads became steadily more crowded. At times the mass of people, chariots, wagons, carts and animals was so numerous he wondered that they moved at all.

The sun beat down. He was glad of his hat, glad Thomas had one, and Elsie and Daisy had their hoods. The animals lay under a large blanket in an attempt to shield them from the merciless glare.

He encouraged Elsie to wear a veil. If she had fought him, he would have backed down, but when he suggested it, she put it on.

The news that rumors of her were already carried on ships abroad had unnerved them both.

After Elsie put one of the veils on, Daisy did the same with the other.

"Isn't it hot?" Thomas asked, finding it strange not to see all of his sister's face. She shrugged.

"It's not too bad."

In the late afternoon, they stopped near a small village. Loftus was only a few miles further down the road.

Charles was grumpy and irritable. The heat was more intense than he was used to, but what really bothered him was the amount of people on the roads. He finally found a quiet spot near a hedge, which had a pond on one side, and an abandoned field on the other.

The flocks grazed and the horses recovered in the field. The family ate a quiet meal next to the hedge within sight of the animals. Feeling better after drinking cool water and sitting in the shade, Charles stretched his arms and got up.

"Where are _you_ going?"

He looked at Elsie in surprise. She was visibly annoyed, her hands on her hips.

"I'm going to watch the flock, of course. Until the second watch," He wondered at her tone. _Maybe she's just tired._

"Hmph," she scowled, shaking out the blanket. As she folded it, she tried to understand why it bothered her so.

 _Of course he has to watch the flock. Thomas can't keep watch all night. What is wrong with you?_

Meeting with Rosamund had reminded her of her obligation to visit Victor's temple. The thought of going there on the morrow made her nervous and ill-tempered.

"Is something wrong?" Charles asked. He meant well, but it only made her more peevish.

"No, not at all," she snapped, clearly sounding the opposite. _Yes, of course, dear husband, I am perfectly fine. Tomorrow I have to visit the holy temple of my immortal fiancé and promise that I will be his forever. After you are dead._

She choked back a sob, wishing he would _do_ something. Put an arm around her. Hold her hand. _Something._

If they were home, she would have sat down and wrapped an arm around him. Leaned against his solid frame and told him what was bothering her.

But they were not by themselves here.

"Well," he said, nettled by her mood, " _If_ you don't mind, I have work to do. Maybe after sunset, you'll calm down." He was rather hurt that she did not even _try_ to tell him what was wrong. He knew she was not looking forward to going to the temple, but maybe something else bothered her.

 _At home, I would hold her in my arms. Rub her back to sooth her. Listen._

But he could not do that, not here in front of others.

"Calm _down?_ " She cried, her face turning red. " _Calm down!?_ Is that the only thing you have to say to me?"

Thomas turned as he brushed down the horses. Father and Elsie faced each other, scowling. Both looked upset, and rather angry.

He did not like the scene before him. At all.

 _This is not…right._

"What else _can_ I say?" Charles yelled, yanking a hand through his hair in frustration. "You are upset, but won't say why!" Daisy emerged from the tent they had put up.

"I have the-" she stopped short, looking between the obviously irate couple in front of her. She met Thomas's eyes.

 _What happened?_

He shook his head very slightly and raised his eyebrows.

 _We need to do something. Now._

Charles grabbed his crook from where it leaned against the hedge. "I will see you later," he grumbled over his shoulder to Elsie. "Good night," he went to walk to the field, but Daisy stood in his way.

"I will take that, thank you," she said as cheerily as she dared and took the crook from his hand. He stared at her in astonishment.

"What-"

" _I_ will watch the flocks this evening," she said, looking first her father, then Elsie in the eye. "I was able to sleep today. I'm not tired at all."

"And she and I have talked about the flocks. She's learned a lot from the apprentices," Thomas added, hardly knowing why he was helping her.

His words was a complete lie, of course. He had never talked with his sister about the sheep. Whether she had gleaned anything from talking with the lads, he had no idea. But he doubted it.

"Well…I-I suppose it's all right," Charles said, totally flummoxed. "Ve will be with you. If you need help, send for me."

Daisy marched off to the field, whistling, with the dog at her heels.

Thomas took a deep breath. "I'm going to the village…maybe buy some extra cheese," he mumbled. His ears went red at how stupid it sounded. _Oh well._ "I'll be back before the second watch, and will take over for Daisy. Good night."

Before the other two could say anything, he set the brush down and walked in the direction of the village. The evening was at its most beautiful. The sky was streaked with pink and gold.

A slight wind rustled the tall grass.

Charles stood gaping after him. "Did he just…"

"Yes."

"Did Daisy really…"

"Yes."

Elsie's eyebrows had disappeared into her hair. Her pique forgotten, she kept looking from the field to the road in the other direction and back again.

 _That was...impressive._

She swallowed, feeling guilty with her earlier behavior. "I…I'm sorry," she said low. "For being angry. I had no right to speak to you like that."

Charles sighed, rubbing his chin. "I'm sorry too. I was not being helpful." He relaxed at her softened expression. "It will not be easy for you tomorrow. I know you've been thinking about it."

"I have," she bit her lip, twisting her hands together.

"Is going to the temple the only thing bothering you?" He asked. She nodded.

"I will be _so glad_ when that is over…" She gave him a weak smile, meaning to reassure herself, and him. Instead she found herself staring at him like she had not done in days. Her heart skipped and she felt a familiar sensation fluttering her belly.

 _He is the_ most _handsome man._

Her eyes raked over the silver hairs streaking through the black, his bushy eyebrows, his nose. The short stubble on his chin. His broad shoulders, his arms tanned by the sun.

"What?" He raised his eyebrows at her open stare. She couldn't help laughing a little.

"We are alone," she reminded him, grinning at him through her eyelashes.

Charles's heart missed several beats. _When she looks at me like that…_

"So we are," he rumbled in the low voice he knew she loved. He saw her shiver, and suppressed a smile. "Thanks to our two rather clever children-"

"Yes they are," she interrupted, her breath sounding short. Her face was flushed. "Charles, come over here and kiss me."

 _Before I wilt._

He crossed immediately and enveloped her in his arms. She let out a sigh when he bent over her upturned face and pressed his lips to hers.

They kissed slowly, savoring each other. He ran his large hands across her back. She broke off the kiss, only to rest her head against his chest. Feeling his heartbeat beneath her ear, its soothing presence. He continued brushing her hairline with his soft lips. He marveled at the color of her hair in the evening light, its rich texture. The comfort of her hands massaging the tired muscles in his back.

Her body against his, her soft curves melding with his solid mass. She reached up, her fingers tracing his cheek down to his jaw, then up to his mouth. He opened his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers.

Elsie moaned, her desire welling up like a flooding spring. She slid her hand around to the back of Charles's neck and pulled him down to wed her mouth with his again.

Hums and soft murmurs passed between them.

"We…must…quiet…" he stammered, risking a glance at the field. He could see Daisy, but she sat with her back to the hedge and the tent.

"I know." Whispering, Elsie looked in the same direction. She felt a rush of affection for their girl. Grabbing Charles's hands, she yanked him into the tent. He stumbled forward, letting the blanket drop behind him.

She had released his hands to go in. Her fingers touched, then gripped the front of his tunic. He cupped her face in his hands, sliding them over her shoulders, and down her back. Another kiss led to another, then another, then another. Every touch, every taste, was sweeter, ever more alluring.

The heat outside was nothing compared to that inside.

As his mouth lingered on her neck, dipped behind her ear, she dug her fingers into his back. He lifted her off the ground, her legs wrapped around his torso. Her eyes were wild looking into his. "Kiss me," she demanded, aching for him. He did so, kissing her hard, making her gasp. "My lover, I _need_ you," she breathed. She was almost in tears.

He had no memory of setting her down, of shedding his clothing, or she hers. All he knew was her writhing beneath him, her back arched, her arms above her head. Asking. For him to come to her.

Charles let out a low groan only once, overcome by bliss. Elsie cried out once, then twice. His big body muffled the sound of her pleasure. He kept from crying out only by kissing his wife until she gasped for air. Then he flipped over, keeping them entwined, until she was above him.

She fell forward, her hands on his chest. He pulled her closer for another searing kiss on her swollen mouth, running his fingers through her tangled hair.

"That," she gasped as she sat up, her hands clasped in his on his belly, "is _the_ most appalling smirk I have ever seen, Master Shepherd. And I've seen a fair few."

"I'm sure you have," he widened his smirk as he rolled his hips forward. Her eyes darkened. She leaned forward until her face was right above his.

"You wicked man," she breathed as he moved his hips again. "You wicked, wanton man. You – _ooh_ \- had your way with me, but I now have the whip hand over you…you _will_ pay for that." She brushed the back of her fingers against his temple.

"I expect it," he said, finding speaking difficult. She ran her fingers into his hair and leaned down to plant a hot kiss on his chest, another on his shoulder, then another drawn-out kiss on his mouth, all the while pinning his wrists down on the sheepskin.

"Expect what?" She purred. Now she was the one moving her hips in a torrid rhythm, and he lost the ability to breathe. Or think.

"To…to…" He panted, his eyes almost rolling back in his head. "Woman- _goddess_ -"

"To have my way with you?" Her breaths came faster, but she was enjoying drawing out his pleasure too much to indulge her own. Yet. "Is that what you want, Charles?" she whispered, her voice warm as the air around them.

He groaned in reply. Speech was impossible.

"Say please," she commanded. He twitched his arms, but he could not move them.

He had, literally, never been in that position before. And he found it unbelievably sensual.

He wanted more.

Blinking his heavy eyelids, he ran his tongue over his lip. "Yes," he begged. "Yes, _please_."

"Please _what_?" The walls of her own restraint were cracking. A tiny sigh, half a whimper escaped from her lips. She felt him jerk forward, and the motion nearly shattered her.

 _His restraint is the greatest I have ever seen._

"Pl-please," he stammered, his eyes half shut, his body rebelling against his self-control.

She let go of his wrists, and his hands immediately went up to cup her breasts. She sat up further, almost leaning back, holding her hands behind her head, her fingers twisted in her hair.

He could not think, could not comprehend anything, except that he was not sure if he wanted the torture to continue. Or end.

" _Please_ ," he murmured, moving his hands down to her hips. He opened his eyes wider to watch her. Her mouth was open, little bursts of air escaping. She threw her head back, her hands behind her on his legs.

He lost all control.

"Wife, lover," he pleaded, "Elsie, command me, _take me_ -"

"Charles," her sighing his name, if anything, increased his pleasure more. He half-sat up, and she moved with him, leaning forward, her hair sweeping his belly. "Charles," she whispered again, moving ever faster, "Husband, come for me-"

He cried out, pulling her down so every part of her touched him. Sighing a long breath in the shadowy heat, he gave himself to her and found euphoria.

She came apart. Came back together.

Heartbeats thumping, eternity. Beads of sweat on her breasts, running down his arms. Bodies slick with it. Passionate whispering, kissing, sighing.

She wept in pleasure, was lost to everything but him, but them, both giving and receiving, finding their balance. He called her name, begging for her to release him, and she took him again.

She lay sprawled on his chest after, both of them spent, their chests heaving.

 _How did we keep so quiet?_

Neither had an answer.

* * *

The field was very quiet, except for an occasional baa from a sheep and a light breeze rustling the grass. A frog croaked from the pond. Daisy hummed, turning the crook in between her hands. Ve sat nearby. He kept looking up at her when he was not watching the flock.

Whimpering, he got up once and trotted over to her. She leaned on the crook and smiled down at his woebegone expression.

"Fair's fair," she said. "You and Freya have had your time alone together. Papa and Mother deserve some, too."

The dog slumped back down, his head on his paws.

* * *

"Mmmm," Charles murmured, giving Elsie another soft kiss. He waited for her to take another drink from the water skin, then let her hold it to his lips for his turn. She set it aside after they had had enough.

He smiled up at her in the dimming light, his thumb tracing a circle on her cheek. She kissed it when he ran it across her lips. "It's nice to see your face. _All_ of your face. Beautiful," he whispered. Outside, the sun was setting.

"Thank you," she sighed happily. "In a way, it is proper for me to wear a veil. I wouldn't mind if you were the only one to see my face. Well, except for Thomas and Daisy."

"Why _are_ you wearing one?" he asked, letting her slide off him so they laid on their sides, facing each other. "Was there something Lady Rosamund said that worried you?"

She shook her head, leaning on her elbow. "Not in particular. I did not like to hear that rumors of me have traveled so far, though I suppose that's to be expected. _I_ decided to wear the veil simply to be cautious. We are far from home, and…" she ran her fingers through the dark curls on his chest. "…I do not want to draw attention to myself. I think I already have," she sighed. "At the palace. I was foolish there."

"Why? Because her servants saw you?" He kept a hand on her hip, lightly running it up her side and down again. "There is nothing you could have done about that. You didn't know about the custom yet."

"True." They were quiet for a while, simply holding each other.

"Do you know why women first began wearing veils?" Charles asked. The question had stayed with him since he had thought of it earlier in the day.

"Yes. And so does Rosamund." Elsie replied. He frowned at her.

"Then why did she say she didn't know?"

His wife smiled, her hand on his shoulder. "My dear man. Because you are a _man_ , and not from Painswick. Such things are not taught to men in most other places. Had you grown up here, close to the Fire God's temple, you would have learned one thing that only girls are taught at the temple of Eala. I told you that the priestesses teach them that each woman has a bit of me, a bit of goddess in them. Remember?" He nodded. "Another lesson that they learn at home, as well as here, is where women come from."

"The same place as men," Charles said, though he could not recall learning about women when the history of men was taught.

Elsie shook her head, grinning. "No. Men lived on the earth first. The King of the Gods assembled a few of them – I was not one," she said. "He asked them to make gifts for men. Victor, being quite practical, saw men and decided they needed an equal, a match. A mate. So he built the first woman."

" _Really?_ " Charles was utterly astonished. He had never heard such a thing before. " _He_ did? So…so that's why some women who worship the Fire God wear veils?"

"That's right. As a sign of respect to their Creator."

"Oh," he pursed his lips, thinking. "That makes perfect sense." He shifted his elbow a little, his other hand still caressing her skin. "But…but what does that have to do with you?"

"What do you mean?" She asked lightly. "Does it not make sense that girls at my temple, Daisy included, are taught about their origins?"

"I suppose so, yes," he said. "I just don't understand…you told me that all women have a bit of _you_ inside them. Is that because you give them love, and beauty, and-" he did not finish, but she knew what he was thinking.

 _The ability to have children._

"Yes," she said quietly, forcing herself to look him in the face despite the twinge in her heart. It was difficult to make out his eyes in the diminishing light. "The gifts I give are firstly for women, though I also give them to men."

"Of course," he murmured, moving his hand from her ribcage to the curve of her cheek.

"There is something else." Her voice was so low he leaned closer to hear her. She reached around him and pulled him to her, her hand on his back. "When Victor was building the first woman, he became frustrated because nothing he made at first satisfied him. So he took a walk on a high mountain. He looked in the distance and saw a goddess singing, and walking by herself. He went back to his forge and used the image of the goddess to form the first woman."

The very air around them seemed to hold its breath. "You?" Charles whispered. Elsie put her hand over his heart.

"Me. _That_ is why every woman has a bit of me inside her. Not because of the gifts I give. That is what the priests and priestesses have been told," she murmured. "Until this moment, no mortal has ever been told the original story."

He felt a sense of awe, a staggering weight of responsibility. "I…I won't tell anyone," he said. "But why hasn't the story ever been told? Surely it should be another mural in your temple, another lesson to be taught."

"It was never told," she said, "because Victor asked my father that it remain hidden from mortals. Not every story of the gods is told."

Horror coursed through him. "Then why did you tell _me?_ Surely the Fire God will be angry!" She placed her fingers on his lips.

"I told you because it is a story about me, and you are my husband. I trust you," she whispered. _And of everything we have done that would inflame his temper, telling the story is the least of it._ He heard her smile. "I know my secrets are safe with you, Charles." She kissed him, lingering until she felt him relax. She laid down on her back, holding his head against her heart. He wrapped his arms around her. Remembering when he had told her that her secrets were safe with him. Wondering what other secrets she held.

She thought her husband had drifted off to sleep as she hummed under her breath. Then he spoke again.

"Your…fiancé. The Master of Fire."

"What of him?" She asked, her heart beating faster. She really did not want to think about going to his temple until the last possible moment.

Charles lifted his head, his chin against her breast. In the dark, she could barely see the outline of his hair. "He's in love with you."

He was sure of it. How could the Fire God _not_ be? Watching the Goddess from afar on the mountain…he thought of how entranced _he_ had been on that early spring day when he first saw Elsie.

"No," she said softly. "He is not. Trust me. He sees me as a bright jewel, a creation that his own works can never touch." She hesitated, thought of how she could explain so he would understand. "It is different with the gods. Very few love in the way mortals do. Sybil and Tom do. My old friend Beryl and her husband do."

"Do the others not love at all?" He asked. He was not convinced she was right, but did not want to contradict her.

"It's more that their own natures dominate their actions. Like Victor…he wields fire, and uses it to build many things. Or the God of War. There has never been a time when he has not waged war, encouraged it, or planned it."

Tracing a line from her chin to the hollow of her breasts with his finger, Charles sighed. It was a reminder of something that he had thought of before, but had never questioned her. He kissed the soft skin just above from where her breasts divided. "You had a long affair with him. The God of War," he said gently. He felt no jealousy. Just curiosity. "Why?"

Elsie let out a breath, almost a laugh. "Beryl asked me that once. I have asked _myself_ that." She felt his soft curls in between her fingers. "Lust. Passion. It was simple, really. He wanted me, and I wanted him. Even after I knew of his infidelity and his temper, it was hard to let go of him. I have learned to harness my desire since then," she smiled ruefully.

"Have you ever…that is-" Charles stammered. He wanted to know and wished to remain ignorant all at once. She wrapped her arms more securely around his shoulders.

"Have I lusted for Marcas since we ended our affair? No," her voice was blunt. "No one, mortal or divine, can touch his image. But I no longer want him. I will never want him again. Or Tom, either."

"The Messenger?" He had almost forgotten about _that_ affair. "Why…did you have an affair with him? Was it lust?"

It seemed incredible to speak about these things, to even ask them. But in the dark in their tent, with his arms around her and her steady presence comforting him, he felt bold enough to ask.

She was surprised with his candor, yet felt no need to withhold anything. _He is my husband._

"Some," she admitted. "But mostly it was for fun. He has a good sense of humor, and we laughed a lot. I had a good time with him."

He was silent. She rubbed his back, keen to reassure him. "Charles," she swallowed, trying to find the words. "Every affair I had before I met you was imperfect. _You_ see more of me than anyone ever has. And for me…I desire you not simply to satisfy myself, but because I love you."

Tightening his arms around her, he wanted to believe her, but nagging doubts still lingered. "And I love you," he sighed, "even though I know I could never be to you what you have had before-"

"Stop," she cried. "I don't want _them_ , I want _you_. You, my man." She ruffled his hair, kissing the top of his head. "And I always will."

"Even when I am old?" he asked. "When my hair is white, my hands shake, and I cannot walk without aid? Even then?"

She was quiet for a long time. "Yes," she said finally. "Because you are not only my mate, my husband, my lover," she whispered. "You are my best friend. I can tell you anything." She felt tears come to her eyes. "You revere the Goddess, because she listens to you. But you listen to _me_. You hear me like no one does."

The evening darkened into night. In the field, Daisy lit a small fire and sat with the flock with Ve until Thomas and Freya came to take over the watch. Inside the tent, husband and wife fell asleep.

* * *

The road east was even more crowded than the day before. It was almost midday before their wagon crawled into Loftus.

The day was an absolute scorcher, steamy and hot. Dust from the road hung in the still air. Charles worried about the animals.

"I will take them to a stream east of the town," he said to Elsie. "I would go with you, to be with you, but-"

"You _cannot_ go with me to the temple. We both know that," Elsie said beneath her veil. "Though I do love you for the thought. You do what you must, and I will meet you east of town when I am finished. It won't take long."

They had already come to a dead stop, the temple of the Fire God only a short distance away. Its stone roof was high, with jagged peaks at the corners. A mass of people moving in both directions vied with sellers hawking their wares on both sides of the road. Animals wandered, some with humans, some not.

It was loud, noisy, and the smell and heat made Elsie feel rather faint. She got up and held onto Charles's hand as he helped her down to the ground. She looked up at him, one hand on the wagon, only her dark eyes visible to him. "Go. I will be fine." She turned and walked toward the temple, but could barely move herself.

The three left behind watched as Elsie stumbled her way through the crowd. Before she had taken twenty steps, she had been bumped and jostled five times and nearly knocked down twice.

Charles held the reins of the horses, helplessly watching. A sharp yell broke his reverie, and he urged the animals to move a little.

"I don't like this," Daisy whispered in the back of the wagon. "Papa wants to go with her, but he has us and the animals to think about. I don't know _why_ she has to go to the temple. Look, that woman almost tripped her!"

Thomas made up his mind in an instant. "Climb up next to Father," he said to his sister, then dropped from the wagon onto the ground.

"Thomas?" Charles called down as the wagon creaked forward. "What are you doing? Come back!" he bellowed over the dull roar going on around them.

His son turned. "I'm going with Elsie. I will see you later."

He then followed the figure in the blue cloak, trying to keep her in sight as he fought the crowd.


	33. A Burden Lifted

**A/N: I do not own Downton Abbey. Julian Fellowes does.**

 **If you all have time, I would love a little review or two. They really do keep me going.**

 **Thank you all for sticking with this story - some things are finally changing here. I hope you all like it!**

* * *

Elsie could not move without bumping into other people. Twice, she was afraid she would be knocked down and not be able to get back up again.

 _Is something keeping me from the temple?_

The extreme heat of the day combined with the crowds, smells and noise were overwhelming. She made her way to the side of the road to have more air to breathe. The veil felt heavy against her face, but she did not dare take it off.

Closer to the temple, there were numerous sellers shouting, trying to get the attention of every passerby. A few offered incense to burn. But most of them were selling other things that had nothing to do with the Fire God.

Rose cuttings, dove's, sparrow's and swan's feathers (and the birds themselves) and tiny wooden idols of the Goddess of Love were everywhere.

Elsie felt as though she had swallowed a stone. Here, in the shadow of Victor's temple, there were barely any signs of him.

 _He has been overshadowed in his own holy place._

 _By...me._

She made her way to a man sitting in a stall with incense laid out before him. He was evidently bored, whittling a stick as she approached.

"Five, please," she said, pointing. He stood up and collected the long sticks, tying them together.

"Five?" He asked. He wiped at the sweat beading in the bald patch on top of his head. "You must have many prayers to offer the Divine Lady. Good luck with trying to find a spot in the garden, though. It's more crowded by her statue than the road. All day from dawn until dusk-"

"I am offering prayers in the temple," Elsie cut him off. "To the Master of Fire."

The seller blinked in surprise. "To the Wielder of Flame? You'll be the only one in there, I wager." He took the coins from her, shaking his head in astonishment.

Elsie picked up the incense. "Surely with this many people, _some_ will go into the temple." Behind her, a group of lads and young girls talking loudly, joining the long line of people that snaked around the side of the large building, leading to the garden beyond. The man snorted with laughter.

"Not likely, mistress. Before the Revelation, only a few pilgrims came to worship here. Usually I'd see less than ten. In one day." He gestured toward the iron doors. "You'd best hurry and make your prayers inside. Otherwise, you'll be standing all day waiting your turn in the garden."

She thanked him and made her way to the doors. A loud commotion broke out on the road and she turned to see what it was. Two large carts had collided, and their owners were shouting at each other. One cart carried large melons. The other carried cages of sparrows. One wheel of the bird-laden cart was clearly broken.

Elsie looked into the distance and caught a glimpse of Charles with the wagon, still trying to get through the mass of people further down the road.

His silver hairs glinted in the sun, marking a contrast with the rest of his black curls. The broad set of his shoulders made her stand up a little straighter, as did the small figure of Daisy next to him. She could not see Thomas, but knew he was with his father and sister.

 _My family. Most of them._ She closed her eyes, thinking of Sybil.

 _Go inside and speak to Victor._

 _Then you will not need to speak with him again for a long time._

When she got to the iron doors, the two priests there were not even making a pretense of piety. Both openly stared at the shouting cart owners, who were taking turns punching each other.

Had she not needed help, she could have walked into the temple without anyone noticing.

She was not sure she would have the courage to go in.

 _I must. This must be done._

"May I go in?" she finally asked. One priest jumped, startled.

"Yes, of course mistress," he said distractedly, slapping the other man on the arm to get his attention. Their black capes swept the ground as they turned. The two grabbed the huge bronze bars on the doors and pulled, the muscles on their shoulders and arms bulging.

"At least there's some diversion to watch now," she heard one say to the other as the doors creaked open. "Aaron fell asleep yesterday."

Dismay fell over her like a blanket.

 _His own_ priests _neglect him._

That was something she was sure would not please him.

Feeling sympathy for him made her uncomfortable, too.

"When you are finished, knock on the doors with the bronze hand and we will hear you," one of the priests said, clearly eager to return his attention to the brawl in the road. "May the Fire burn bright for you." He said the last phrase so fast it all came out like one word - _maythefireburnbrightforyou._

She nodded took a deep breath and stepped forward, walking inside. The doors clanged shut behind her with a great boom.

* * *

 _Smoke billowed out as Victor used the bellows. The fire glowed red, then nearly white._

 **Now** _ **it is hot enough.**_

 _He tapped the thin gold plates with the lightest touch he could muster. Smiling, he could see his own reflection gleaming back at him._

 _ **This is perfect. Beautiful.**_

 _He set down the little hammer and picked up the belt, its surface hot enough to melt iron. He put it down gently to cool on a stone table nearby. Leaning against the table, he wiped his face with his apron while the clatter and roar of his automatons went on around him._

 _Then he heard it. Dimly, through the noise._

 _Her voice._

 _His heart skipped several beats, an echo of the time he walked the earth as a mortal._

I must be dreaming, _he thought. Why would Eala speak to me?_

 _Why now?_

 _He walked back to his fire. Not believing he would see her, but unable to stop himself from looking anyway._

 _Smoke curled around the edges of the flame as though it bordered an unrolled papyrus scroll. There was a face visible – well, half a face. The figure wore a cloak that covered her hair and a veil that covered her nose and everything beneath it._

 _Her eyes_ looked _like her, but was it? He frowned._

 _Then she spoke again._

" _Peace to you, Victor. It is I. Eala."_

* * *

It was dark inside. Though with the sun crowning the sky outside, _anywhere_ would have seemed dark in comparison.

And yet as her eyes adjusted, it was brighter than she expected.

Torches burned all along the walls, illuminating several murals. Tools of blacksmiths and small golden offerings lay on the floor beneath the great altar. There was no statue of Victor above it. Built into the wall behind the altar glowed a gigantic fireplace. It had not been replenished for some time. The wood and coals inside burned a dull red, with only a flicker here and there of flame.

The stone walls made the room cooler.

She shivered from nerves. And from the ever-present smell of sulfur. Delaying the inevitable for a little while longer, she turned to look at the murals that decorated the walls, the flames from the torches casting shadows everywhere.

Victor with his friend, the Wise Goddess. Him with the King, presenting Him with a great throne. Him making winged sandals for the Messenger. Him with the God of War. An army behind them, clad in armor, holding swords and spears. She turned away.

Clenching her fists, she felt sweat on her palms.

 _When he sees me, surely he will appear in the flames._

 _Mind your words. Do not think-_

She closed her eyes, letting herself remember the glimpse of Charles outside.

Then she set aside the memory. She knew she should not think of any of the mortals she knew, lest the god guess her affection for them.

But most of all, she knew she _could not_ think of her beloved, her lover, her husband. Clothed still in mortal form, the only protection she could give all of them was to keep Victor from seeing her vulnerable heart.

 _I must appear to be friendly, at the very least. Open. Honest._

All the while keeping her true self hidden.

' _He's in love with you,' Charles said._

She hoped with all of her might that it was not true.

Lighting the incense sticks, she set them in a metal pan that hung next to the altar. The smoke from it wafted up, and the torches behind her gleamed a little brighter. She bowed with her hands facing up. Clearing her throat, she forced herself to speak clearly.

"Hail, Master of Fire."

Instantly, fire blazed in the giant fireplace behind the altar, throwing light and heat into the room. Elsie gasped and stumbled backwards two steps. She had expected something of that sort to happen, but his reaction was faster than she imagined.

Squinting into the bright flames, she saw a figure move. He bent over as if he peered into a fire in his own forge.

 _Which he certainly is doing at this moment._

She saw him frown, the lines creasing his forehead. The light was bright enough for her to see the individual strands of hair on his beard. She licked her lips.

"Peace to you, Victor. It is I. Eala."

Before she could lose her nerve, she removed her veil then uncovered her head.

Sparks flew from the torches behind her, showering the stone floor with red pricks of light before dying out. The flames in front of her leaped up, glowing nearly white. Its sudden brightness was so great she put up her hand to shield her eyes.

Victor bowed his head.

" _Hail, Beauty Unequaled."_

His voice echoed around the room. She hoped the men outside the door could not hear it.

* * *

 _He could not believe how stunning she was. The flames illumined every curve of her face, the reddish tints of her hair. Her dark eyes. He hoped his voice did not tremble, and give away his desire._

" _What brings you to my temple?"_

 _She blinked. He could not read much in her expression. She was guarded, elusive._

 _Even knowing of her bond with the shepherd, he could not be angry with her. Not then._

 _He had never spoken directly with her, nor she with him. The thought that after they were married he would see her all the time made him so giddy he almost smiled._

" _To see you," she said simply. "As a tribute of our betrothal."_

 _He hardly knew what to think at her words. She was perfectly polite. Respectful. Had he not taken mortal form so recently, he might have thought there was a current of warmth, even affection in her voice._

 _But he remembered what she looked like that day in the shepherd's pasture. How radiant she was._

 _ **She loves the mortal, never forget.**_

" _A more fitting tribute would be if you returned home," he said with more gruffness than he intended. "I heard the King gave you permission to stay for many more years."_

 _Eala visibly flinched at his words. He could see the torches on the walls behind her blaze with intensity._

" _He did," she admitted, her eyes wary. "But years in the lives of mortals are not long to us."_

 _Pressing his lips together, Victor tried to keep his temper. "True. But it would mean a great deal to me if you would come back sooner." He scratched the side of his face, wondering whether or not to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. "I know the news was a surprise to you," he said as gently as he could. "But surely the prospect of marriage cannot be…all bad."_

 _He cursed himself for being so weak as to speak so openly in front of her. It felt like rending the earth in two, exposing the fire within._

 _She blinked, looking down. "When my father told me we were to be married…it was a surprise," she said, twisting a strand of hair around a finger and letting it go. "In time, I will get used to it."_

 _ **Like she is used to being married to a man?**_

 _ **She**_ **cannot** _ **know that you are aware of what she has done. Not now. Eventually she will be aware of it, but you do not want to make her angry any sooner than you have to.**_

" _I have been making something for you," he said haltingly. "I…hope you will like it, when it is finished."_

" _That is kind of you," she replied, meeting his eyes again. "There was no need for you to make anything for me."_

 _Her humility was a revelation to him. Gone was the vain goddess, happy for any sign of adoration._

 _He wanted to tell her he loved her. But he had never said the words aloud, not even to himself. "I wanted to make something, as a gift. You will be my wife," he whispered. "All the works of my hands are yours."_

 _Eala did not speak an answer, but only bowed. It almost looked like she blushed. But he could not be sure._

 _For a long time neither one said anything. The only sounds he could hear were the occasional snaps and low hum from the fire._

" _I must go," she murmured finally. "No one else is in here, but the priests may return at any moment."_

 _A rather sarcastic grin curved the corner of his lip. "If my priests there are so attentive to my house, they would be the first ones to be so."_

" _They should honor you more," she said so quietly he almost didn't hear her. She pulled her veil back across her face. As she covered her head with her hood once more, he thought desperately of something to say. She bowed again._

" _Eala," his voice rumbled. She turned, already half-facing back toward the doors he knew led to the outside. "Please…remember me while you are away."_

" _I will not forget," she responded. He watched her reach up to the metal pan. She blew out the remains of the incense, and disappeared._

* * *

It was all Elsie could do not to fly to the doors, to hammer on them until they were opened. The instant Victor vanished and the fire behind his altar died, she had to concentrate not to run.

She took a gasp of air, but the heavy scent of incense and sulfur kept her from breathing too deeply.

Seizing the long bronze hand shaped into a fist that leaned against the wall, she picked it up and pounded the door four times.

 _Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom._

Her heart was in her mouth. She was afraid the priests would not hear, that they would not be paying attention, or that they were asleep-

A chink of sunlight pierced into the gloom as the doors began to open outwards. Not until they were fully open and she stepped out of the temple did she feel a weight lift from her shoulders.

"May the Master of Fire light your home and warm your hearth," the priest on the left muttered. Elsie glared at him for his obvious disinterest, but he was not looking in her direction.

 _Whatever I feel about Victor, he deserves better from those who claim to serve him._

The brawl had ended in the road, but the mass of people remained. On the far side of the temple a small footpath ran east. She walked down it, wanting to be away from the crowd for a while. The path paralleled the road, so she could still look for her family.

Gulping air, she felt her hands shaking from sheer relief.

It had gone better than she hoped. She had been afraid Victor would ask her what she was doing, or what she had seen. It seemed strange he had not, but she was in no mood to worry about him any longer.

Or think about the way he had looked at her.

Had she been at home, she would have removed the cloak, hood and veil and skipped down the path.

Her own heart skipped, and she smiled at the thought of home. Of the small house on the hill, below the wide meadow. The hearth inside where she and Daisy baked bread, and where the family sat together at meals. Her Charles, wrapping his arms around her waist as they sat next to the well in the evenings.

 _My home is where he is._

Lost in her thoughts, she did not see the figure following behind.

* * *

Thomas could not find her.

He had spent too much time fighting through the hordes of people, carts and animals. When two carts collided in front of him, he had just enough time to grab a tiny boy who walked with his family and yank him aside, out of the way.

The boy's mother thanked him profusely, but he was impatient to leave the road. He scanned the many sellers hawking their wares. It did not escape his notice that most of them sold things for Eala's worship, and not for the Fire God.

Dripping with sweat, he eventually gave up and sat down next to a stall, bending his long legs to get into the shade.

He assumed she had gone into the temple. There was nowhere else she could be. He had no interest in going in there himself, much less to disturb the priests standing in front of the doors. The two men were watching the fight in the road with evident enjoyment.

The last time Father dragged him to Eala's temple, he had not obliged him by praying to the Goddess of Love. He smirked.

 _I have nothing to say to you either, Fire-Master._

Although it did make him wonder why Elsie would go into the God of Fire's temple. He had assumed when she left the wagon she would be visiting the new shrine of Eala. But there was no sign of her in the long line of people waiting to go into the garden.

The heat made him drowsy. He had nodded off, the sounds around him fading away, when he startled awake at the sound of a heavy boom. Blinking, he sat up and saw the priests closing the doors of the temple. A figure in a familiar dark blue cloak and veil walked down the stone steps.

Standing up, he suddenly wondered what to do. What would he say to her? What if she was angry with him?

Why _had_ he followed her?

She walked quickly down a narrow path. It dipped down a little hill and around a corner, into a thicket of trees.

The road rose on Thomas's right. He glanced over there, but could not see Father, Daisy, or the wagon. When he looked back at the path, Elsie was gone. He ran forward, hoping he hadn't lost her.

Even with her wearing the cloak and veil, her curves were still visible.

* * *

The trees were thicker than she realized. She had to duck a little at one point, the branches too low for her to walk standing straight up.

At least there was shade.

The clatter of carts could still be heard on the road, but she could not see it through the trees. When she came out the other side of the thicket she could barely glimpse the road above. The path went up a long slope. She was halfway up it when she heard a voice.

"Where do you think _you're_ going?"

A man wearing a dark brown beard and grey tunic blocked the path in front of her.

Elsie walked a little faster, and went off the path to go around him. He blocked her way. She tried to go the other way, and he stepped in front of her again.

"Let me pass," she kept her eyes on his feet. Someone snickered behind her. When she turned, another man stood there, his arms crossed. He was a little younger, with long blond hair.

The older man stepped closer to her front. "Take off that veil and let's see what we've got." He reached for her, but she evaded him.

" _Stop_ ," she hissed, her heart pounding. "You will not touch me!"

Without warning, the man behind her grabbed her arms. She struggled, but could not throw him off. "You should have prayed to the Divine Lady, instead of the Master of Fire," he rasped, his hot breath at her ear. "Maybe he'll come and save you."

"Let her go!"

Elsie stopped moving, shocked.

 _Thomas!?_

The blond man turned, taking her with him. Thomas stood in the path.

"Who's going to make us?" sneered the older man. Elsie tried to catch Thomas's eye, but he was not looking at her. Pale, he licked his lips.

" _I_ am." He threw himself at the older man, managing to grab the blond's arm on his way. The younger man yelled, and let go of Elsie. She fell down onto the path, cutting her hands.

"Elsie!" bellowed Thomas. He reared back and punched the brown-haired man, sending him reeling. " _Run!_ "

She did not want to leave him. Especially as he yelled, the other man grabbed him and half-dragged him to the ground.

"RUN!" Thomas roared again, seeing her standing still next to the path. The last glimpse he had of her was her flying up the slope to the top of the hill.

She ran holding her long skirt in her hands so she wouldn't trip.

 _Charles. I_ _must_ _find him!_

The wagon was nowhere to be seen on the road. She kept running, dodging in between carts and nearly getting run over by a man on a horse. The animal reared, and she barely missed its flying hoofs.

The steamy air and her veil made it very difficult to run, and she had to slow down. The last thing she wanted was to faint.

She guessed she was a mile outside of Loftus when she had to stop, gasping, bending over her knees. Sobs tore at her throat.

 _I should have stayed and helped him. Helped my son. He's all alone back there…_

Loud barking made her look up. Freya raced to her side, whining, a question in her eyes.

"Go," Elsie gasped, pointing the other direction. "Help Thomas…he needs help, _go!_ " Freya sprinted away, barking loudly.

No sooner had her dog vanished, when Elsie saw Ve coming. He did not stop, but flew past her in the same direction as Freya.

Elsie stood gasping for air, wiping sweat out of her eyes. She kept walking.

 _Surely they are not too far away._

The wagon appeared before her, stopped on the side of the road. The welcome bawl of sheep reached her ears.

Charles's arms caught her when she stumbled. "Elsie, I am so sorry! I _knew_ we should have gone back for you! Love, you're half dead from the heat – where is Thomas?"

"I don't know," she gasped as he helped her to sit in the shade of a wagon wheel. "I saw the dogs go running past-"

Daisy handed her a flask of water, which she gratefully drank. It was warm. "They went crazy, just jumped right out of the wagon all of a sudden. That's when we stopped. We would have gone back, but the road's so crowded near the village we were afraid of getting stuck."

"And we had the flocks to watch," Charles's hand had not left Elsie's shoulder. She gratefully covered it with her own, savoring his strength. He looked back down the road, his brow furrowed. "I should go back now, try to find Thomas and the dogs, but I don't want to leave you."

"Your face is so red," Daisy crouched beside her. "Mother, are you _sure_ you're all right?"

Elsie was still trying to catch her breath. She could only nod, feeling each wheezing breath exhale from her mouth.

It felt like she sat for a long time, sipping the warm water as her breathing slowed down. Daisy kept looking up at her father and back at the road.

Charles muttered to himself, pacing back and forth. He suddenly yelled when Thomas appeared, the two dogs with him.

Daisy gasped as he got closer. All the color drained out of Charles's face, and he raced forward to grab his son. Thomas's face was badly cut and bruised, and his tunic was torn in two spots.

"What _happened?_ " Charles asked. Thomas shrugged, wincing as he did so.

"Got…got into a fight," he mumbled, not meeting Elsie's gaze. She had regained the ability to speak. But he shook his head in her direction, his meaning clear.

 _Don't tell him._

Charles half-lifted him into the back of the wagon. Soaking a cloth, Daisy joined her brother and pressed it against the side of his head. "But why did you get into a fight, it's not like you."

Thomas glanced up at Elsie, who had taken the reins. She was at a loss as to what to say.

"Never mind that now. Is anything broken?" Charles asked, worry seeping through his voice.

"I don't think so," Daisy said, gently squeezing Thomas's arms. He groaned a little at her touch. "We'd best keep going, though. Get him and Mother out of the sun."

"The dogs saved me," Thomas told them as they drove on. He managed a smile as Freya laid down next to him. "I was in the thick of it, hoping I wouldn't get knocked out. Two strangers trying to beat me senseless. All of a sudden there was this roar and Freya just sailed in. She almost took the one bloke's leg off, the way _he_ howled…and no sooner had she showed up when Ve came flying in and bit the other one. In a spot I won't mention in front of the women," a short smile appeared on his face. "They couldn't get away fast enough. After the dogs chased them away, they came back to me, nudged me a bit to get me on my feet. Then they led me back."

Charles asked several questions as to who the men were. Thomas said he didn't know. He said he thought they were just looking for mischief. Charles sighed, slipping an arm around Elsie.

"Thank the gods for Ve and Freya," he whispered. "I should consider us fortunate that we haven't had trouble until now. On the way home, we can take a different road, just to be safe. We don't have to go through Loftus again."

"Thank you," whispered Elsie. There was more than one reason she was grateful for that. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

They stopped late in the afternoon near Staithes. The wind carried the smell of the sea, and seagulls cried in the air. The village and the sea were hidden from their sight, down great cliffs to the bay.

Charles and Elsie had found a stream for the flock and were letting them graze. Daisy unwrapped several loaves of bread and cheese.

Thomas dozed next to the wagon. His entire body ached. He woke slightly, still feeling very tired, when someone pressed a wet cloth against the dried scab next to his eyebrow.

"Ouch," he mumbled, his eyes fluttering open. Elsie sat next to him.

"What're you doing here?" he asked, embarrassed.

Her voice was quiet. Soothing. "I just wanted to make sure there wasn't too much harm done."

Despite his discomfort, Thomas grinned a little. "Well," he gestured to his head, "there was enough harm done. I'm likely to carry several scars for a while."

She smiled a little, her dark eyes soft. "You were brave, Thomas. Very brave. I feel badly…" she bit her lip. "I should not have run off."

 _You were left all alone._

"Oh, you should have," he replied. "Otherwise, what was I bloody doing it for?" _Why_ _ **did**_ _you do it?_

Elsie gently took the cloth away from his skin, softly rubbing dirt and dried blood from his temple, along his hairline. He kept still. She was glad of that. "Were you following me?" she asked, trying not to sound as if she were accusing him.

She knew he had been. Charles had told her. What she didn't know was _why_.

"I like to keep an eye out," he mumbled. That was true enough. He tried to explain. "The crowd, a woman by herself in a strange place. Father would have gone with you to the temple if he didn't have the flocks to watch."

Never mind that she knew that wasn't true. She wanted to thank him, but searched for the right words. The rustling sound of the wind in the tall grass took the place of speech for several moments. They could hear Charles talking to Daisy nearby.

"I never wanted Father to marry anyone else," Thomas said abruptly, his voice low. "It wasn't just you."

"I am aware of that," Elsie replied, her hand light on his shoulder.

"Daisy's my sister, but we're very different." He wanted her to understand. "She barely remembers our mother, but _I_ do. I don't want to be rude," he turned his head slightly to look at her, "but you'll never take her place. Not to me, anyway."

"I understand that. I do," she reassured him. She wrung out the cloth and wiped at a spot on his cheek. He winced, but said nothing. "But I'd like it if we could be friends."

Thomas twisted his hands in his lap. He wondered if it was some sort of trick. He knew what Edward would say if he were there, but he wanted to be sure of his _own_ feelings.

 _You would not have followed her if you hadn't been worried about her. It wasn't just wanting to know what she was up to. If you worried about her, then you cared about her._

It was scary admitting it to himself. Caring for Elsie, even with it being a slightly different emotion, risked a part of his heart he had tried to bury with his mother.

"All right," he said finally. "Friends. If that's all. I think I could manage that." _It's hard to say no to someone who's being so nice to me._

 _She's not so bad._

He felt her let out a shaky breath. He did not see her smile, or blink rapidly several times.

"Thank you, Thomas. _Thank_ you," she said with genuine warmth. She squeezed his shoulder. She wanted to say so much more, but she knew better than to push. _He and I are so alike in some ways._ "And thank you for defending me. I won't forget it."

To cover the awkward moment ( _please don't let her cry_ ), he tried to joke. "The next time I make a friend, hopefully I won't be at the wrong end of a fight."

She laughed, and the sound floated in the air as the sun glowed red behind them and the sky blushed pink.


	34. The Sea

_The sea._

 _Its ever-moving surface, its hidden depths, are in stark contrast to the solidity of earth and its tangible foundation. Both loved and feared because of its beauty and power, it has a dramatic effect on mortals and the divine._

 _The temperamental Sea-God mirrors his domain. When he is calm, there is hardly a better place to be than on the rippling water. But when he is angry, not even the earth is wholly safe._

 _Charles had seen the sea before. He was always reluctant to get close to it, with the memory of his father's death weighing on his heart. But he knew when his family traveled to Staithes they would want to visit the shore._

 _He resolved that his fear would cast no shadow on their time there._

 _The vibrant seaside village was then famous for its market. For the ships that brought all manner of things to the northern kingdoms. For the people that visited from faraway lands, coming both by land and sea._

 _Many stories have been told by those who still live there, as well as by travelers. The men of the sea are the most sought-after storytellers._

 _The fishermen there are like fishermen everywhere. Their tales grow larger with every telling._

 _However, no story they have ever told mentions the goddess._

 _After the scare in Loftus, Elsie was not eager for any other incidents that would result in harm to her family. When she visited the seashore, she was keen to keep herself hidden as much as possible._

 _She did so well in that regard that her presence was like that of footprints in the sand, overtaken by the tide – erased as though she had never been there._

 _This is not to say her being there went entirely unnoticed._

 _To this day in late summer, crowds gather on the shore on moonless nights. The heavens are alight in the night sky, the stars twinkling as though they talk to each other._

 _There is much they have seen._

* * *

 **A/N: Just a little one for you. Coming up is the family's stay in Staithes. Thank you all so much for your kind reviews on the last chapter! To the guest reviewer who asked, Victor was never an actual mortal. But he takes mortal form from time to time. I'm sorry that was confusing.**


	35. Staithes

**A/N: I apologize for this chapter taking so long. We had guests early last week, good friends of ours, and after they left I went into a funk. Then struggled through not liking anything I wrote, then my sinuses acted up and I slept through most of the weekend. (And thought, wouldn't it be nice to wake up and be able to do last week over? But I digress.)**

 **I hope you all like this. It went a little more angsty than I thought, but…well, it's not** _ **all**_ **angst.**

* * *

The road from the high bluffs down to Staithes was very steep. Elsie held tight to the reins, not wanting the horses to stumble and fall. At the bottom both she and Charles let out a long sigh of relief. He gave her a small smile before turning around.

"Is everyone all right back there?"

"Yes," Thomas called back. He patted Daisy on the arm as she looked back up to the top of the cliff, her eyes wide. "Though I think everyone, including the sheep, is glad we don't have to brave _that_ road again for several days."

Elsie steered the wagon along the narrow lane into the village. It was just as crowded as the road east of Loftus had been, made even more so by the mud houses on one side and the steep, short drop into water on the other. The noise, buffeted by the bluffs behind and the tall cliffs to one side, was almost deafening.

The difference was that in Staithes there were people in grey cloaks directing the masses where to go, thus though it was loud, there was little chaos. A woman with thick blonde hair was perched high on a rock that stood at a junction of two paths. Thomas stood up in the back of the wagon, his knees cracking at his movement.

"Which way to the market?" He yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. She pointed behind her.

"Straight on!" She bellowed.

Charles raised his eyebrows. "Her voice could almost match mine," he leaned over, speaking in Elsie's ear. She smiled beneath her veil.

"Yes, but I would rather hear yours when we're alone," she said. His face reddened and his smile broadened into a smirk.

The market went on and on along a spit of land that went straight for a long time before curving back into Staithes. The stalls flanked both sides of the road. Behind it, framed by cliffs on the left and a beach to the right, was the sea. Daisy sniffed, looking at the waves. She could smell the sea's salty tang, along with the familiar scent of fresh bread. When they passed a fish seller, everyone, including Elsie, turned at the smell of frying fish.

Thomas swallowed, feeling his belly twist.

A short time later they all sat next to the wagon eating. Charles sighed in contentment.

"That was excellent cod," he said. "Of course we're used to the carp and shoal at home."

"David told me his brother caught these early this morning," Thomas picked at his teeth with a bone. "I expect they taste so good because they're so fresh."

"Being by the sea makes us hungrier as well." Elsie wiped her mouth. Glancing at her and Daisy, Thomas gestured to the little basket on the ground.

"Would either of you like any more bread? If not-"

"You eat it, you've been eyeing that last loaf ever since you finished your fish," Elsie stifled a laugh. He hesitated, then picked it up. Tearing a large chunk off of it, he gave it to Daisy.

"Thanks!" She gave her brother a grin before taking a bite. "Oooh, it's still warm." She tore off a small piece and handed it to Freya.

The wagon sat between the fish seller and another stall. Elsie's attention was caught by the colorful silks fluttering in the breeze.

"Would you like to buy something?" Charles's voice startled her, and she jumped.

"Yes, if you don't mind," she replied, reaching for her veil and covering her face. "I know we still need to find Harold and haggle over the flock, but since we're here-"

"Go," he squeezed her shoulder, his eyes soft. "Buy something for you. We should get a good price for the animals – there are twice as many as I brought last time, thanks to you."

"Mother, I want to buy something as well," Daisy stood up, her face covered once more.

"Take Freya," Thomas said. "She'll watch over both of you." He caught Elsie's glance and looked away, his face pink.

Elsie was glad her veil covered her expression. _This is all still so new to him. He's trying._ "Aye, she will," she ran a hand over the dog's fur. "Be nice to Ve, and stay out of trouble." Charles and Thomas climbed back onto the wagon, and the shepherd steered the horses back into the main road. The women watched them for a moment.

"The animals being sold here are gathered by the sea wall," Elsie explained. "Your father told me. They should be able to find Harold, or at least someone who knows him. After we're finished, we'll walk down and join them."

They spent a long time perusing the silks. The merchant there, Walter, was very enthusiastic, but Elsie was firm with him and after a while he backed off and let them search for what they were looking for.

Phyllis wanted to help Anna make a new tunic for her wedding. Elsie and Daisy had promised the wheelwright's wife to find suitable silk for her.

"There are so many colors here!" Daisy whispered. "Sybil told me Anna is already making a blue shawl. It seems a shame to _not_ get something to go with it, like this gold here, but…" she paused. "I know it's what she wears every day, but do you think she'd like white?"

"I do," Elsie nodded. The vision of the young woman in a white silk tunic, her long blonde tresses down her back, made her smile. _She will be a beautiful bride!_ "Excellent idea – let's look for that!"

Walter perked up after they had found what they were searching for. Daisy had drifted off to look at some darker colors while Elsie haggled over the price of Anna's silk. She took the chance while Daisy's back was turned to choose some pale lavender.

 _She can wear this at Anna's wedding_ , she thought with glee. Phyllis had secretly agreed to help her with it. She was counting out coins for the merchant when a man reached out and put his hand on the merchant's wrist. Elsie looked up in surprise.

"Shepherdess, let me pay for some of it." The strange man wore a purple cloak. He was mostly bald, with patches of dark hair on the sides of his head. "Walter is a fair haggler, but it is rare I meet a woman from Downton so far from there."

Elsie turned. "Do I know you, sir?" Her heart skipped a beat. _How does he know where I come from?_ She had never seen him before. Freya stood at her side, watching the stranger.

The man bowed slightly. "No. But I saw you in the village at Midsummer when I visited my mother. I would recognize the shepherd's cloak anywhere. It used to be mine," he gestured at the dark blue cloth shading her head from the sun. "I told Charles that it looked better on you. And that is the truth," he smiled slightly. "If you are here, then I assume the shepherd is as well."

Letting out a breath, Elsie smiled, even though she knew he could not see it. "Master Harold, thank you for your kindness, but there is no need to pay for this." Her lips twitched. "No doubt you would then try to get a lower price for our flocks later."

Harold smiled. "I had to try, one way or the other. I know Charles can be very stubborn when it comes to getting a price, and I thought you would be less so."

He walked with Elsie and Daisy to the sea wall, Freya beside them. When they arrived, they found a large group around Charles and Thomas, all shouting to take their bids and trying to outdo each other.

"I knew it would be like this," Harold murmured, a glint in his eye. "This is why I've been trying to get your husband to come here _every_ year." He helped Elsie and Daisy up onto a shorter wall where a small crowd sat watching. He then walked into the melee.

Charles was relieved to see him. He was more relieved to see the rest of his family up on the wall. Harold did his work well, whispering in one man's ear, offering promises to another. When he made his offer to Charles, both the shepherd and his son were stunned.

"The nearest offer was almost one _hundred_ coins less," Thomas said finally. His eyes narrowed. "What is it you _really_ want, Master Merchant?" Charles put a hand on his shoulder.

"I believe you are a man of honor," he said to Harold. "But why so much more? There are other flocks here, as well as ships carrying other animals."

"Are you a fool, shepherd?" A disgruntled man, another merchant, crossed his arms and glared at Harold. "Take his gold before he changes his mind!"

"I want your flocks," Harold replied, unfazed. "The wool those animals have is highly prized, and your rams and ewes are quite fertile. And I know you," he smiled. "Despite my best efforts, I doubt you will return here next summer. You are a man who likes to stay close to home. I cannot wholly blame you for that." His eyes flicked up, in the direction of the wall. Hardly anyone around them noticed except Thomas, who gritted his teeth.

"Well. If you are in earnest…" Charles extended his hand. His heart leaped, though his face did not show his joy. _With this sum, it will be more than enough to replenish the flocks. And perhaps enough to hire James before the shearing in the spring._

 _More than enough to gift Thomas and Daisy._

"I am." Harold shook his hand, then extended his to Thomas. The young man hesitated, but finally took it. "Whatever trade you choose, it is wise to be wary of strangers. But not _all_ men have secret motives."

"Serving the king, I know that well." Thomas replied. "Your brother-in-law is exceptionally honest."

"Perhaps too much for a ruler. He needs a Steward who is more discerning than he is. It is good he has you by his side."

Thomas felt his mouth go dry. "I-thank you, Master Merchant," he stammered, "but I am not his Steward. I only serve at court."

He had never thought of being Steward.

Much.

Edward thought he had the knowledge and temperament for the position, but he was not sure he believed his mate's faith in him.

Since Matthew had died, old Master Julian had come back to court. But he was the type of man to affirm the king's opinions, not question them.

The most Thomas had hoped for would be to someday take Master Henry's place, and be head of the household. To be Steward was another thing entirely. To have the ear of the king, to advise him on matters of state, to ride beside him to war…there was no more exalted place to be, except on the throne itself.

Charles felt a surge of pride. _The Queen's brother thinks he can be Steward._ He had thought it before himself, but had never spoken of it to Thomas. He was not even sure if that was Thomas's desire. He felt a pang of buried grief. If his son did choose to stay at court, then he would never return home, except to visit.

 _But if he truly wants it, how can I not be happy for him?_

"Perhaps you only serve at court now," Harold said. "But who knows what will happen in years to come?"

Thomas thanked him, then made his way through the crowd to Elsie and Daisy. Charles watched him and Ve leave. His boy walked with his shoulders back. Proud.

"I hope I did not offend you," Harold said softly, almost unheard through the growing shouts around them, as another man's cows were offered to the crowd. Harold gestured to one of his men, who drove Charles's flocks away with him. "I did not think…of course you want your son to take your place someday. My father was a merchant, and his father before him," he rubbed the glistening skin at the top of his head. "I never wanted to be anything else."

"No offense taken," Charles replied. He sighed. "I _did_ want Thomas to come home one day. To take my place to watch over the flocks. But the older he gets, the more I see his place may be elsewhere. It would be wrong of me to force him to leave court, not if he wishes to stay."

They talked a little more while other bids were made, and gold exchanged. Harold had news from many distant lands. There were rumbles of war coming from the east, between Carlisle and Branksome. People feared a drought in Gillingham and prayed for rain. Charles was surprised to hear about the Queen of Hexham, formerly Lady Edith.

"We had not heard about her condition in Downton," he said, raising his eyebrows. "It's likely the king and queen already knew, but are keeping it to themselves."

"They don't know. Not yet," Harold grinned. "My niece put her letter into my hands herself two moons ago, and I sent it on to Cora just yesterday. I told you because I know you are not one to spread gossip."

"Thank you," Charles said. "No, I will say nothing, of course."

Lady Mary, he thought, would not be pleased to know her sister was expecting her second child. Not immediately.

But he was sure she would be happy for her sister in time.

Gossip of suitors for Robert's eldest daughter were rife. Harold brushed most of them aside, along with some of the more fanciful rumors circulating among the seamen.

"There are few things we can count on to be true," the merchant said. "That many men are willing to pay almost any price to keep from being lonely – my mother knows that well. That the Sea-God's temper can change from one moment to the next. And that the more someone insists on being an oracle, the more suspect the words that fall from his or her mouth."

" _You_ believed the oracle, what she said about the cloak," Charles could not help reminding him. Harold snorted.

"Yes, because I've known her for a long time. She does not often make prophecies."

There were wild stories about the gods. That the God of War and his sister were going to war with each other. That the King of the Gods had sired three sons by three different nymphs. _That_ , thought Charles, _is most likely true._ That the Queen of the Gods, so often slighted, had had enough and vowed to change the nymphs into frogs. _Likely true as well._ That the Master of Fire was building a figurine of gold for his future bride. That some of the gods took mortal form…

"W-who?" Charles stuttered. "Who do the oracles say is in mortal form?"

Sighing, Harold shrugged. "They all say something different. Some say the Sea-God, some say the Master of Fire. Some swear Athena is with us, others insist her brother is. I heard one oracle in Gillingham say the King of the Gods himself is here." He shook his head. "Some say the Harvest Goddess, as well as her friend the Goddess of Love."

Letting out a breath, Charles forced himself to smile. "Who is to be believed?"

"I believe in what I can see," Harold crossed his arms, grinning back. "A cloak is one thing, but a god in mortal form, who can tell?"

He thought of saying something to Charles, but held back.

The very thought frightened him.

 _Mother and Cora would laugh at me, believing in the gods after so long doubting them._

It was much easier to think of real, tangible things.

 _She's only a shepherdess, after all._

* * *

After Charles found his family, he and Elsie took the horses and wagon and went to find a good place to camp.

Thomas, jingling several gold coins in a small pouch, set out for the lively heart of the market. Daisy went with him.

"Is there somewhere you wanted to go?" she asked, staying close beside him. "We'll be here a few days. I want to go to the beach! Don't you?"

"Yes. But first, the messengers' post," he said. He sidestepped a woman carrying a bundle of cloth and nearly fell over when a man bumped him. Daisy smiled when he drew her arm through his.

"I'll not lose you in this crowd," he glanced in her direction. "I would have liked to bring one of the dogs along, but it's better they stay with Father and Elsie while they have all the gold with them."

The messengers' post was a simple round rock structure. Daisy petted a horse, running her hand over its grey-speckled side. Thomas wrote fast using a borrowed quill. His writing was usually very good, but he knew Edward would not mind.

 _My dearest friend,_ he wrote, _so much has happened on our journey to Staithes that I cannot fit it all here. The weather has been very hot, but Daisy and I look forward to swimming in the sea to cool ourselves. It has been a long time since I saw it. I forgot how beautiful it is!_

 _I delivered the letters to the king's sister in Painswick. She seemed to think well of me, which shows her good judgment. We will stop there on the way home, as she will have letters of her own to send. Her husband was not there, and from what the servants told me, that is something that happens often._

 _I wonder if she is lonely._

He paused, holding the quill against his cheek, thinking. He knew he would tell the entire story to his mate of what happened in Loftus once they returned home. Daisy hummed nearby, stroking the horse.

 _You will be very happy to know that Elsie and I are friends now. She cares for me, I know. The least I can do is to show her a little gratitude. I'll tell you the whole story later._

 _I don't look forward to your gloating. Daisy doesn't know about it yet, though I'm sure Father does. He hasn't said anything to me about it, though I'm sure he wants to._

He hated to think his father was gleeful over his change of heart.

 _He must be thrilled with the price Master Harold gave him for the flocks. I'm glad we sold the sheep. It means our journey home will be much swifter. I will enjoy myself while we are here. There is much to see._

Pressing his lips together, he felt tears beginning to form at the back of his eyes.

 _If you were here, everything would be perfect. Both Father and Daisy send their regards, and Elsie does too. See how I've changed?_

 _I hope the king is not keeping you too busy. Say hello to Anna and Sybil for me._

 _Yours,_

 _Thomas_

The heat from the rock on which he sat meant the ink dried even as he finished. He scanned the letter once more, then rolled it up and carried it inside to seal it. Daisy followed behind.

"Did you tell him I said hello?"

"Of course!" He carefully wrote Edward's name on the outside, along with _Downton, King's Hall_. The postmaster glanced at it for a moment while he dug out coins.

"The king's hall in Downton, do you say?" The man asked. "Just so happens I've got several letters _from_ that place. Would you be…" he frowned, reading one of a number of scrolls. "Thomas, son of Charles? Shepherd, they all say."

"Yes, that's me," Thomas hastily picked up one of the four. At a glance, he saw immediately they all carried the same handwriting.

 _Edward. Of course._

"All from a young lass back home?" The man smiled, showing a gap between his teeth. "She must be mighty keen on you-"

"They're from the dearest friend he has," Daisy cut in, picking up the other three scrolls. "Thank you, Master. Will that letter be sent today?"

"It will, I've a rider leaving in midafternoon," the postmaster said. He frowned a little at Thomas's scroll. "Edward? Who's that?"

"Our brother," Daisy said stoutly, leaning forward a little. "You _know_ how it is, I'm sure. All the young people serving together at court. Nothing is supposed to go on between them…"

"I see," the man winked at her and Thomas. "Sending letters to your brother so he can pass them on to your…friend. Very clever." He waved as they left. Daisy slid her hand into the crook of Thomas's elbow again. Her brother's face was aflame.

"Bloody _meddler_ ," he burst out in a whisper. "Probably reading my letter right now-"

It made him glad he and Edward were careful what they wrote to each other.

"Not likely," Daisy steered him towards the bank which fed into a little channel to the sea. "You sealed it yourself. He'd lose his position if Edward received it and the seal was broken." She tried to reassure him. "He'd hardly be a postmaster if he wasn't _curious_."

They walked along the bank until it opened to the sea. Splashing across the low tide, they walked along the beach, their feet in the sand.

* * *

Charles gazed out again at the sea. The sun reflected off the waves, making him shield his eyes. The only clouds visible were high in the sky, wispy brushes of white against the azure blue.

"Are you _sure_ we'll be all right here?" He asked, running a hand through his hair. His fretting and the wind were almost making it stand straight up. "It's low tide now, I know, but later-"

Elsie walked up behind him wrapped her arms around his broad chest. "We will be _fine_ ," she said, tucking her head underneath his arm. She rubbed his back, trying to relax him. "We're well back of high tide here. And we're not the only ones – look over there." Pointing to their left, they watched a group merrily moving three wagons into a semicircle. "They're closer to the water than we are, and they're still in the grass. Like we are."

"I know," he murmured softly. She sighed.

"Charles, if it worries you so much, we can move. None of us want you to be afraid while we're here."

He felt ashamed that she would even have to suggest such a thing. To distract himself, he looked to the right, where Daisy was up to her ankles in the water, picking up shells. Thomas read a scroll while lying on his back in the sand. He had removed the top part of his tunic, and his pale skin looked even whiter in the bright sun, except for his arms.

Charles sighed. "No," he said. "This is a good place. It's a bit more private. You and Daisy can wander without your veils." He swallowed. "I…I just need to get over my fear, that's all." Trying to joke, he leaned over and kissed Elsie's hair. "Your uncle is in a good mood today. He must like you."

"Not really," she shook her head. "He tried to pursue Beryl once, long ago. She managed to hide from him. When he found out I was on her side, he went into a rage. I don't think he's forgiven me."

"Why was he angry with you? Did you help her?" He asked. A pair of seagulls flew overhead, crying.

"No. She disguised herself without anyone's help. I just didn't take _his_ side. It was wrong of him to go after her like that." Elsie glanced up at him. "But he often takes such things personally."

"I should have known," Charles's voice was dry. She laughed, but stopped when she saw his expression.

"I am sorry," she touched his face, her fingers trailing down his cheek until he met her gaze. His eyes were sad. "I know I make him sound like just another bad-tempered old curmudgeon, but he's not. Not to you. He's taken away many people, including your father. I need to remember that."

They stood facing the endless waves. The view faded from Charles's eyes.

It had been a long time since he'd seen Papa. He was only a little older than Thomas when Robert's father had gone to war, taking many men from the kingdom with him.

Papa had never come back. And Mother had not long survived him.

Charles was not sure he remembered either one of their faces. Not clearly.

"For years after," he whispered, "I dreamed of the sea. Of it…drowning me, Mother, Papa, everyone I knew. Even my older sister, who died when I was a boy. She died giving birth," he said, and Elsie nodded, having heard him speak of her before. "When Alice carried Thomas, as her time got closer, the dreams came back. And then it was her and Thomas dying, drowning in front of me. And the same happened again before Daisy was born."

"Have you dreamed it since?" Elsie could not imagine the horror. _I do not know what it is like to lose someone I love._

 _Yet._

"A few times, after Alice died," he admitted. "But not for a long time."

She hugged him close, wishing she could take away his fear and dread. "Are you afraid you will dream it again?"

He nodded, closing his eyes.

Tightening her arms around him, Elsie leaned against his chest. "I am here now," she murmured. "If you wake in the night, I will be next to you."

He hugged her back. His chin rested on top of her head.

"If you walk into the water, I will go with you."

Charles pulled back a little, frowning. " _That_ will not be necessary. Since I have no intention of walking into the sea. Or swimming in it." He gestured towards Thomas and Daisy. "I will not keep you or them from it, but _I_ won't go in."

"Really?" she asked, feeling disappointed despite understanding why he would not. "Not even to dip your toes in the water?"

"No." It came out sounding more grumpy than fearful. "And I don't like sand, either. It's too…gritty."

A smile grew on her face. Moving her hand slightly, she danced her fingers across his torso to his side. He immediately bent over.

" _El_ sie! Stop, I'm-"

"Ticklish there, I know," she giggled. Ve darted from underneath the wagon and circled them, barking. Charles held out his hand.

"There he is, my good boy, out to defend me-"

"Ha! I have a dog, too! And she loves _me_." At Elsie's whistle, Freya dashed from the tall grass where the horses grazed. She circled the couple along with Ve, letting out a playful yelp. Charles held his hands out in front of him, not willing to let Elsie get too close.

She went for his shoulder, but he pivoted, and she missed. Her huffed breath made him laugh. When she lunged at him again, he caught her hands and refused to let go. They struggled, pulling each other one way then the other, all the while laughing harder. The dogs barked around them.

Finally, Elsie stumbled, falling forward into him.

His laughter vibrated in her ear. "Are you-you all right?" he choked out. She nodded, still giggling. Instead of helping her stand up straight, he picked her up, holding her above him. "Every time you stumble, I'm there to carry you," he teased, as she ran her fingers through his tangled hair.

Elsie leaned down and kissed him on the mouth. Charles tasted the faint scent of roses, the wild briny air of the sea. He loosened his grip, and she slid down his body. Slowly.

He felt every part of her as they kissed again, deeper.

They broke apart, breathing hard, her hands on his chest. He cupped her face in his hand. Traced her hairline, the outline of her ear, down her neck. She shivered at his touch.

"I am glad you are here with me now," he rumbled.

"And I, you," she breathed. She clutched his tunic in her hand, over his heart. "If you will not go into the sea, come with me into the tent."

She forgot about the power of the Sea-God as her husband loved her long into the afternoon, holding her in his arms. He forgot about his fear of the sea at the touch of his wife's hands, the feel of her lips on his hot skin.

"Yes, _there_ ," he gasped once, his fingers grasping her bright hair, pulling it slightly.

"Again, love," she moaned a little later in his ear as she moved above him.

" _Please_ ," they both whispered together, pleading.

Asking.

Giving, and receiving.

* * *

The tide rose, coming closer but not bothering a snoring Thomas. Daisy ran through waves up to her knees as the dogs chased her up and down the beach.

 **A/N: There is more to their adventure in Staithes. As happens so often with this fic, I write 5000 words, and have yet to get to the part I** _ **really**_ **want to reach.**

 **If you could leave a review, it would make my day! Thank you all for your patience.**


	36. Witnesses In The Air

**A/N: Many thanks to ChelsieSouloftheAbbey, who listened to me ramble about this chapter. It's always nice to have someone to listen when you're stuck, and it would have been a longer wait for this chapter to post if she hadn't been the good friend that she is. I am sorry for the roller coaster, though. This fic has, well, everything.**

 **There are parts of this chapter I've been planning a loooooong time. The song mentioned at the beginning is on my personal soundtrack to this fic (yes, I have one). I liked the lyrics, and the end of the song has a killer violin riff that I love. It's on YouTube if you want to search for it.**

 **Along with its other qualities, the cloak is kind of like the garment in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants – it fits however it's needed at the moment.**

 **A reminder – I do not own Downton Abbey. I just supervise the characters at the beach and look the other way when shenanigans ensue.**

 **I hope you all like this! Please leave a review if you have time.**

* * *

 _ **Age to age**_

 _ **I feel the call**_

 _ **Memory of future dreams**_

 _ **You and I, riding the sky**_

 _ **Keeping the fire bright**_

 _ **From another time and place**_

 _ **I know your name**_

 _ **I know your face**_

 _ **Your touch and grace**_

 _ **All of time cannot erase**_

 _ **What our hearts remember stays**_

 _ **Forever on a song we play…**_

 **-Two Steps From Hell, "Star Sky"**

* * *

Picking up a stick, Daisy tossed it into the water, behind the breaking waves. Ve raced after it, splashing her. She laughed. Stumbling a little, she pulled one foot, then the other, out of the deepening holes into which they had sunk.

"The tide's coming up," she said to Freya, who trotted nearby. "And I'm a little warm, aren't you? We should go sit in the shade." She could taste salt on her tongue. "Funny how there's all this water, and it makes me _more_ thirsty!"

Ve emerged from the surf carrying the stick in his mouth. Daisy tugged it from his mouth. He stretched his front paws out before scampering back and forth. She grinned, and waved the stick in front of him. "One more time? All right, go get it!" She threw it to almost the same spot as before.

Jogging a little in the direction of their camp, Daisy watched Ve swim out to get the stick before coming back. "Good boy," she petted him as he shook himself dry. "Ooh- _you're_ getting dry, and _I'm_ wetter!"

"Daisy!"

Papa called from further up the beach. She could see him standing in the tall grass near where the line of sand began. She waved to him.

"Time to come in, love!"

Smiling to herself, she called the dogs to follow and half-walked, half-jumped along the hot sand to the grass.

Charles let out a breath when she got closer. "We haven't seen you since noon. You must be hungry."

Daisy gave him a hug. "Mmm-hmm. And thirsty, too." She gently nudged him as they walked to the wagon and tent. "I know you worry about me, but you _don't_ need to. I know how to swim, I'm careful of the undertow, and either Ve or Freya's with me all the time! Or if not them, Thomas."

"You never know what could happen in the sea," he couldn't help saying. "There are strange beasts there, a storm could come up-"

"Papa," she sighed, "We've been here for going on three days, and the weather's been perfect! And you know I don't go into water deeper than my waist."

"Yes, but the waves make it deeper than that," he argued as they walked around the wagon. He picked up a skin and handed it to her. She tipped it gently and let the dogs drink first, before downing half of it. "You might slip and fall. _Anything_ could happen." He laughed a little at her expression. "I'm your father. I'm allowed to worry about you."

She went to sit down next to the fire. "Maybe…if you went into the sea, just a little, you wouldn't worry so much."

Sighing, Charles poked at the lamb roasting. The smell made his mouth water. "Not you, too. First Elsie, then Thomas. Wetting my feet will hardly change my mind." He waved the stick at Freya, who lingered a little closer. " _No_ ," he told the dog. "Wait your turn. I promise you and Ve will get your share."

Daisy slumped a little in disappointment. It was such fun, being here. She knew Papa was afraid of the sea, but she didn't see the point of at least trying to overcome it.

But she knew better than to push him. _Maybe Mother will have better luck._

"Where are they?" she asked, taking another swig of water. Charles gestured with his head to the far side of the wagon.

"Thomas bought more leaves from the market today. I told him since it was his fault he fell asleep in the sun and got burned, he should have to buy the remedy." He chuckled, and Daisy stifled a laugh.

The first afternoon they had arrived, Thomas had fallen asleep on the beach. When he woke, his neck, chest and belly bore the brunt of the sun. His burns were healing, thanks to the soothing leaves from the market.

A low curse echoed from behind the wagon. Charles raised his eyebrows. "Is everything all right over there?" he called.

"All fine," Elsie sang back.

On the other side of the wagon, she pursed her lips and tried not to smile. "It could have been worse," she said, pressing a leaf on Thomas's right shoulder. "At least your face was covered. Most of your wounds were there. It would have been much more painful to have burns on top of this cut here." She gestured at the scar above Thomas's eyebrow. Doing so, her hand slipped.

" _Ouch!_ " he groaned, picking up the fallen leaf and pressing it back on his shoulder. There was a definite hint of exaggeration in his voice. "I know you like to help, but I think you _really_ like torturing me!"

"Sometimes," she got up from her knees next to him. "When I'm not torturing your father."

There was a long silence.

She closed her eyes. _It is probably too soon to say that to him._ "Oh, you know I would never do that!"

"You'd better not," he grumped, before glancing up at her. "Sorry," he said. "You meant it as a joke, and I-"

"-are protective of your father," she finished, pulling her hair over her ear. In the evening light, he almost thought he saw strands of light brown and muted gold mixed in with her rich auburn. "I'm glad you are."

"Some good it is. I keep hurting myself," he looked down at the bright pink skin on his belly. Some of it was beginning to peel. "I can hardly protect anyone if I can't look after myself, can I?"

He knew it was stupid. Getting upset over a sunburn. But he didn't like the feeling of being cosseted, even though Elsie had gone out of her way to give him space. He wasn't sorry to have made friends with her. Not exactly.

It was just little things she did that made him think. Like asking him to walk with her to the market the day before. They had not spoken much, but she had asked his opinion on whether or not to buy certain things. She had not taken his advice every time, but he could tell she listened to him. Later in the evening, he realized why it unnerved him a little.

 _Elsie treats me like a man._

 _Mother always treated me like a child. She was very protective._

 _Maybe too much._

Of course, he had only been a boy most of the time he knew Mother. She had certainly never made a joke about his father in front of him, either.

He often wondered what it would have been like, if she had lived. Somehow he knew she would have been nothing like Elsie.

 _They are_ _very_ _different._

 _Had Elsie been there the day I was attacked as a child, what would her reaction have been?_

Flexing the fingers on his right hand, he studied the middle two, between his pointer and his pinky. Both were oddly shaped. One of them could not be fully straightened. Richard said he was fortunate to have the full use of them.

He had been ten years old when he had made the mistake of kissing a farmer's son on the cheek. Chased through Downton, he had defended himself as well as he could, but his hand had been nearly crushed by the object of his childish affection stomping on him. Several other boys had taken their turn as well.

It was the only time he had ever seen Father in a rage.

For an entire year after, he had hardly left home. Not even to go to school. Father was loath to let him go anywhere, and Mother agreed. Had she lived, he wondered if he would have been allowed to serve the king at court.

Mother had always been very deferential to Father. Maybe she had disagreed with him, but Thomas had no memory of her challenging him. Or even expressing much of a view of anything outside their home.

Elsie was respectful towards his father, yet she did not hesitate to speak her own mind.

It intrigued Thomas, the way they acted around each other. Sometimes Father would raise his eyebrows, or even bluster a bit. Elsie would either soothe him, or sometimes tease him.

When he thought of his childhood, Mother never acted that way. Their home was happy and peaceful. But it had only one master.

It made him wonder what his mother thought, if there were things she had never said aloud. She had seemed happy to have Thomas home with her, to take care of him.

He was sure she would not have liked him in the competition at Midsummer at _all_. Much less getting into a fight with strangers in Loftus.

He was glad that Elsie seemed to understand his desire to take care of himself. But it made him uncomfortable, thinking that maybe she understood him better than his own mother had.

It felt like betraying her memory just to think it. Even if it was true. He didn't like the tumult of feelings inside, but he sensed that they would sort themselves out in time.

One thing was certain – the anger that he had felt over Father and Elsie marrying was mostly gone. He still did not like that they had wed so quickly, but there was nothing to be done about it.

 _They did not do it to hurt you or Daisy. Elsie is not cruel._

 _Neither is Father._

 _He cares for me, too._

 _I've always known that. Even when I was furious at him._

Elsie sniffed, looking away. She did not know what Thomas was thinking about, but she sensed the storm within him was finally beginning to drift away.

 _He keeps so much inside._

"You protected me," she reminded him, her voice low.

"What?" he asked, startled out of his thoughts.

"You protected me," Elsie repeated. "In Loftus."

He shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"And even though you and Charles disagree on many things, you still watch over him." She continued. "And Daisy, of course. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

He let that sink in before looking up at her, his face expressionless. "You forgot one." She frowned, tilting her head. "Edward."

Arching an eyebrow, she offered him a hand up. "I thought he protected _you_."

"That is in dispute," he took her hand and stood. "He says he protects me, I say I protect him – we go in circles." He grinned.

They went around the wagon to join Charles and Daisy, Thomas in front. "But if you're going in circles, how can I take one side or the other?" Elsie asked, her voice light. "Edward will never forgive me if I take _your_ side."

"Oho," he turned his head, "I see. I should have guessed you'd prefer him over me. He _is_ better looking, I'll admit."

"Yes," she said, deadpan, even as her eyes twinkled at him. "But you are more charming."

His laugh made her heart melt.

* * *

The waves raced towards her. Elsie sidestepped the water, her feet sinking into the hot sand. She continued on the beach past where the road curved back to the village. Ahead of her, the sand was slowly replaced by pebbles and rock. She picked her way carefully almost to the end of the spit of land.

Seagulls cried, flying back and forth between the jagged rocks forming a wall and several other large masses that dotted the bay. Waves crashed against the rocky wall, sending a white spray into the air.

On her right was a little cave. It was used by the people of Staithes when storms came, to watch how high the battering sea would come.

It was a little windier in the afternoon than it had been that morning. Certainly more than they had felt over the last few days.

Ducking her head, Elsie peered into the cave. It was dim, but she made out carvings of wood and iron hanging against the far wall. She went in.

The carvings were of fish and dolphins. Tridents, big and small, hung everywhere. They were all in tribute to the powerful Sea God, little tokens to appease him.

She found a spot on the wall where someone had hammered a long iron nail, long since rusted. Several tokens hung there. She took out the small wooden carving of fish that Charles had bought two days before. Hanging it, she stood with her fingers on her chin, thinking of her erratic uncle. And her husband's fear of the sea.

Not once since they arrived in Staithes had Charles set foot in the water. The closest he came was riding one of the horses onto the beach, but he steered the animal clear of the waves.

Nothing Elsie could say would make him change his mind.

 _You cannot force him to overcome his fear._

"No, you cannot," a quiet voice said behind her. "He must do it in his own time, in his own way. He is a _stubborn_ mortal, after all."

Elsie's heart jumped into her mouth when the voice began to speak, as she had been alone only a moment before. The voice without doubt belonged to one of the Divine. As he continued speaking, however, her heart leaped again for a different reason.

She turned, a brilliant smile on her face.

"I did not expect to see _you_ here!"

Tom leaned against one of the rock walls, his arms folded across his bare chest. His familiar smile shining, along with the golden aura around him. "Am I a more welcome surprise than your Uncle Peter?"

"Shhh," she playfully put a finger to her lips. "We mustn't let him _know_." They embraced, and he kissed her on the cheek.

"Sybil sends her greetings. I saw her last night."

"How is she?" Elsie asked as they sat down on a large, flat rock.

"Busy," Tom put his hands on his knees. "Learning how to serve the Lady Mary, and helping Anna sew for her wedding." He grinned. "Not that she is terribly good at sewing, but she is getting better." He talked of Sybil's influence on the king's daughter, of their growing bond. "It will be different than what Mary had with Anna," he said, "But it will likely not surprise you to hear that that proud woman likes your daughter very much. Much more than she shows, though that may change."

Though he could tell she did not want to hear it, he told her about his most recent visit to Victor. The Fire God had been in a cheerier mood than usual, due to having seen his fiancé. Tom did not linger on the subject. It was enough to know Victor was unconcerned about what went on outside his forge.

He then asked about the family's journey to Staithes, and Elsie was glad to tell him about it. He was delighted to hear she and Thomas had become friends. "Though I would be careful if I were you," he warned. "The lad is intelligent. He knows there's more to you than meets the eye. As does his sister."

"Thank you for reminding me," Elsie sighed. "Most of the time neither one of them is home. This adventure here is the longest time Charles and I have spent with them since we married. Speaking of caution," she folded her hands around her knee, "is there _anything_ I can do to help Charles? I didn't suppose his fear of the sea would be so strong. If he does not at least try to face it now, when will he get the chance again? We might not return here for a long time."

Tom stood up, looking towards the cave entrance. "He's been carrying a burden for many years. He and his mother Penelope heard that his father drowned in the sea, but they never knew the circumstances of his death. Charles has always thought he died in terror, at the mercy of the Sea-God's fickle wrath. Penelope," he said quietly, "did not remain with the mortals for very long after hearing of her husband's death. Her son was left to bury her, and to carry his grief alone."

Something stirred in Elsie's mind. "You saw her the day she died."

"Yes." He glanced at the sunlight dancing on the floor near the mouth of the cave, avoiding her eyes. Elsie knew why.

 _How could I have forgotten?_

It was one of the duties of the Messenger to escort dead mortals on the first part of their journey to the Underworld, to the River Styx.

"Was my daughter with you that day?" she asked. Sometimes Harmony went with her husband, to help comfort the dead.

Tom shook his head. "Not when Penelope died. But she was with me the morning Charles's father died. His name is Charles, too. Did your husband ever tell you?"

"Yes." Unbidden, a smile appeared on her face. "And that when he was young his grandfather called them Charles the Ram, and Charles the Lamb. As he got older, he _hated_ that name." Both she and Tom laughed.

"I can believe it," he said, his eyes growing sad. "Your Charles was very proud to have his father's name. He loved him very much. And his father loved him."

"Tell me," she patted the rock. "Tell me what happened. The day he died."

His eyes blazed with intensity. "If I do, you must _never_ tell Charles."

"It might help him!" she protested.

" _No_ ," he said, the resolution in his voice final. She knew better than to contradict him. "When it is time for him to cross the River, then he will learn of it. But he must _not_ hear it as a mortal. His father's life is bound with the fates of others, and the effects of it are still felt. Even _we_ don't know why certain things happen. Your father and Hades guard those secrets well." He sighed and sat down. "I'll tell you what _I_ know so you can understand at least a tiny part of it. And so you know the sort of man his father is. Why your husband is the way he is…why he is so faithful to the gods."

* * *

 _The ship was part of a fleet, heading south along the coast to aid the ruler of Branksome in war, against the king of Carlisle._

 _Most of the men sailing were not regular soldiers. They had received the call from their king, and they had answered it without knowing of all the dangers they faced._

 _It was a very dark night, marked with vivid flashes of lightning over the thundering sea. The men in all the ships were terrified, and prayed fervently to the Sea-God to still his wrath, and stay the storm._

 _But he was not appeased._

 _Most of the fleet sank, sending hundreds of men to the Underworld. Several other ships were damaged by the wild wind, their masts broken, their sails ripped away._

 _One ship overturned in the darkness. Huge waves broke over her. Many men were trapped below the deck, like their other unfortunate brothers in lost ships. Five of the more fortunate men were pitched into the sea itself._

 _Among them was Patrick, the king. Husband to Violet and father to Robert and Rosamund. Along with him were four others._

 _One was a shepherd from Downton named Charles._

 _The men screamed for help, for mercy, for the gods to save them. Three found pieces of wood to cling to. In their fear, they fought each other, desperate in their desire to live._

" _Cowards!" bellowed one man as he was shoved aside. "The gods curse you for this!"_

 _Unseen in the air above the men and the turbulent sea were two watching gods._

" _Are we to take all of them?" Harmony asked. "The ones already beneath the water, as well as these?" The Messenger shook his head._

" _No. A few will live. But that is not for us to decide. Hades has their souls to claim, and he keeps the reasons for why some live today, and others die. We must wait."_

 _The man who had been shoved aside struggled against the waves for a time before he tired, and sank. Two other heads bobbed above the water some distance away from the other two men._

" _Is there anything to hold that you can see?" One shouted to the other. "We've been here since the second watch, and my strength won't hold out for much longer!"_

" _I can't see anything," the other bellowed, his booming voice loud in the storm. "Don't give up, though, something may turn up!"_

" _I-I don't want to die," the other man choked. "The gods have mercy on me, but I am afraid! Help us Eala, Divine Lady! Send help, mighty Athena! Oh Great King, SAVE US!"_

" _Send them our prayers, yes! But if the God of the Underworld wants us, there is nothing to be done," his companion called._

" _Maybe you have nothing to live for! No family, no wife who will mourn you-"_

" _I do, I wish to live just as much as you do! I want to see my wife and my son again…"_

" _My son is just a child," the first man leaned his head back in weariness, staring up into the black sky above. "He is too young to grow into the man he needs to be without his father. And my daughter, she needs me too," he whispered._

 _Patrick wept as his strength faded. His wife was strong, yes, but there were many who threatened the kingdom from the outside. There were those within it who would not hesitate to depose a child king and his family for their own uses._

 _Charles tread water, his arms aching. His heart burned within him. His sweet wife, his Penelope, who had not wanted him to go to war in the first place. His son, the younger Charles, who understood why he did go off to fight, but would mourn him greatly._

 _He did not know that the man near him in the water was the king. He heard his companion weeping, heard him speak of his little boy and girl._

 _And then, a miracle._

 _His hand brushed something – his heart leaped – and he reached out and snatched it. A jagged piece of floating wood, a gift from the gods._

 _Large enough to hold a man._

" _Thank you, Beautiful Lady," he whispered, dragging himself onto it. "Praise the King, who rules over the sky, who sees all."_

 _The other man's voice grew louder, and Charles knew he was drifting closer to him._

 _His heart stuttered within him._

 _ **No. I cannot do this, the wood came to ME, it was meant for ME to hold on to, to live-**_

 _Even as he thought it, he sighed, closing his eyes._

 _ **What of that man's family? What will happen to his children?**_

 _ **They will be left without a father.**_

 _ **What about**_ _ **my**_ _ **son?**_

 _ **My boy, my namesake…is nearly grown. Almost a man. He is old enough to be master of the flocks and can care for his mother.**_

 _ **And I have some strength left. More than that poor man does.**_

 _It was the hardest thing he ever did._

 _Sliding off, he pushed the wood away from himself, and in the direction of the other man._

 _ **I am a fool.**_

 _ **Maybe not, there may be something else that comes.**_

" _Praise be to the gods!" Patrick shouted, hauling himself onto the wood. "My friend, are you still out there? There is a piece here, perhaps there are others for you to find!"_

" _I am here," Charles answered, his voice weaker. He was tired, so very tired. "The gods favor you. Pray for me, that I might find something to hold."_

" _Keep your strength, friend," Patrick called. "I pray that the gods may spare you! You lifted my spirits when I thought all was lost. I can never thank you enough."_

 _He drifted away from Charles, albeit slowly. The shepherd heard his voice for a long time still, encouraging him to not give up. By the time the black sky had faded to grey, he was alone._

 _As far as the eye could see there was nothing but water._

" _Lord of the Sky," Charles whispered, his face barely above the surface, "give me strength to see the dawn once more before I die."_

 _He prayed to all the gods, asking for them to watch over his family. "Help them to know you are always watching…be with them always. Let Penelope remember…I will be waiting for her, my wife, my woman, my lover."_

" _Stay with my son…let him never lose his faith in the gods. Or his hope or courage. Divine Lady," he choked through tears, "give him the love of a good woman, and let him cherish her in return."_

 _The storm had passed. His arms and legs felt as though they were filled with rocks. And still he kept moving, though he was exhausted._

 _Not until the sky in the east had lightened from grey, and the sun's rays broke over the surface of water. The orange glow brightened his face. Sighing, he smiled at the beauty before him._

 _Before sinking beneath the waves._

* * *

"He did not suffer." Tom's voice reached Elsie. She heard him move a little closer to her on the rock. Weeping softly, her hands covered her face. "Charles was not overwhelmed when death came. He was frightened, and sad of course, but he faced it bravely. I remember everyone I take to the River," he put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "and few mortals are as compassionate in death as your husband's father. He did not think of himself, except to ask for strength."

"And for the gods to bless his son," Elsie whispered. "His prayers were answered. There is no one more faithful than Charles." She shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "His father could have kept the piece of wood for himself. He did not _have_ to die."

"No one knows what might have happened," Tom said, keeping his hand on her shoulder. "We could only watch and wait, Sybil and I. But he gave his life for someone else. Someone he didn't know. What is the greatest love?" he asked. " _You_ know that better than I do."

"Love that puts others first." Running her hand along the rock, she felt a rush within her body, the hidden source of her power. "Love is not self-serving, Love _is_ a servant." She looked up at her friend. "What am I?" she whispered. "Have I been a servant? Or have I simply used others for my own purposes?"

 _What about Charles?_

"You have been nothing but a servant to him since you arrived," Tom reassured her. "You put him first, and denied yourself. You still do. If you only thought of yourself, you'd be in bed with him right now." He held her hand between both of his. "Everything that you have done since the beginning has brought you here. Being with Marcas and with others, including me, helped you master your own desire. Having Sybil gave you someone outside yourself to cherish. You _love_ Charles – and Daisy and Thomas as well. You give scarcely any thought to your own will where any of them are concerned. They come first to you."

She knew he told the truth.

"I would do anything for them," she confessed. "For Sybil, and for you. For Edward. You all are my family."

"There are many more you could add to the list," Tom grinned. "And more that would do the same for you. You've got more friends, both mortals and gods, than you realize. Beryl, for one. She won't be happy when I tell her you forgot her-"

Elsie slapped his hand. "You will _not!_ " She huffed out a laugh. "She'll remind me every time I see her from now on!"

Laughing, Tom stood up and grabbed his staff that leaned against the wall. "I won't say a word." He gave Elsie a long hug. "I know you want to tell him the story, but it is not your privilege to give," he said in her ear, before standing back. They lingered for a short time in the mouth of the cave, the sunlight dancing on their feet. Tom's shone like pure gold.

"I should be patient then," Elsie said finally. "With Charles. Perhaps it would be better to say nothing else to him, to let him talk to me about his father when he feels ready."

Tom nodded. "That is the best thing you could do. For him, and for you. Of course," his eyes twinkled, "if you find the right moment to give him a gentle prod, I know you will." He smiled mischievously when her mouth dropped open, and vanished into the sunlight.

* * *

Charles awoke from a light slumber and turned over, trying to move slowly. He did not want to wake Elsie.

Napping during the day was nice, but it meant when nighttime came, sleep was elusive. He knew he would likely have slept better in the tent, but he and Elsie had given it up for the night for Daisy and Thomas. It was only fair. The children had slept outside for days, covered only by the wagon when it rained.

There was no rain this night.

He blinked, and opened his eyes. Above him the stars shone brightly, so many they were impossible to count. He lay still watching the glorious heavens for a long time. Mesmerized.

When he finally rolled over to wake his wife, wanting her to see the sky too, he found she was gone.

Getting to his feet, he stretched, feeling more awake than sleepy. Not a sound came from the tent. He could not resist pulling the cloth back and peeking in. Daisy was on her side, drowned in slumber, her breath coming out in puffs. Thomas's back was to his sister. Even in the dim light, Charles could see his wild hair, his arms flung above his head in complete tranquility.

He felt a rush of love for them. _They will always be my lad and lass. No matter how old they are._ Dropping the cloth, he walked into the tall grass beside the wagon.

 _Where is Elsie?_

He scanned the ground, the sleeping horses and dogs. He could see her nowhere.

Then he looked towards the beach.

A figure stood in the shallow waves, her back to him. She held up her skirt as another wave rolled in. Running backwards, she let the water chase her higher onto the sand before she walked back into it.

 _Whenever she moves, it looks like a dance._

He watched her until he lost count of the times she'd run back and forth. Sometimes she bent over to watch the moment when the water rushed up to curl around her feet. He found himself wishing _he_ was the water, the sea that captivated her, the entity that touched her.

If only he wasn't so _afraid_ of it.

Maybe she would tire, and return to their camp, he thought. Instead, she walked further into the surf, the waves almost to her knees. He could see her skirt bunched up, her keeping it dry. His own mouth went dry at the sight of the salt water spraying her naked legs with its foam.

Clenching his hair in his hands, he felt simultaneous fear, desire, and aggravation. Glancing up at the sky, he raised his eyebrows.

 _Really?_ _Really_ _? Did any of you gods plan this?_

He thought nothing could entice him into the sea.

Nothing except her.

* * *

She squished her toes in the wet sand. Another flood of warm water came up and swirled around her ankles.

 _Ooh, that feels lovely._

Ever since they had arrived in Staithes, she had enjoyed the sensation of walking on the beach where the tide came up. Somehow this night it seemed to be a special delight.

It was probably because she knew they would be leaving soon. One more full day and night, then at dawn on the following morning, the family would depart for home. Without sheep, but with a number of other things. And memories to keep forever.

She looked up into the sparkling sky, a radiant smile on her face. This was her element – beauty in the heavens above and the earth below, pleasure to savor. She had turned and run out of the water once more, one hand holding her skirt and the other sweeping her hair back, when she saw someone standing just out of the water's reach.

Charles.

Walking closer to where he stood, she felt the undertow of the tide pulling at her feet. She danced out of it, laughing when the water splashed up, onto her skirt.

"Come on!" she said lightly. Playful. "I dare ye!"

He didn't budge, torn between wanting to join her and held back by his own worry.

"But if I get my tunic wet…"

"If it gets wet, we'll dry it!" She came closer to him.

"Suppose I fall over?" He knew it was a ridiculous question, but he could not help himself.

She was a little piqued by his never-ending fretting. "Suppose a sea monster comes up to say hello, suppose we're hit by a falling star?" From the look on his face, the sea monster seemed a relevant concern. She knew it was not.

Above them, the Twins glimmered. Elsie glared at Pollux. _If you dare to play a prank and fall on us now, I'll throw you back so far, it will take you fifty years in the lives of mortals to walk home._

She raised an eyebrow at Castor, then surveyed the rest of the glittering crowd. _That goes for all of you._

 _You all know that is not an idle threat._

Charles was still unsure. He knew he wanted to go in, but he needed a little push.

As ever, Elsie gave him one.

"You can hold my hand," she said, her eyes glinting in the starlight. "Then we'll both go in together."

"I think I will hold your hand," he replied, grateful. He took two tentative steps forward and let out a gasp as a wave enveloped his feet. "It'll make me feel a bit steadier."

He came alongside of her, and she felt a rush of affection for him. _Dear man._

"You can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady," she said. His heart skipped at the music of her voice, the way it danced on the warm breeze.

"I don't know how, but you managed to make that sound a little risqué." He made sure she heard a little pomposity in the words. As he hoped, she laughed at him. She was remembering the man who chased her out of her shrine in the early spring.

"And if I did?"

She held out her hand and he took it, feeling the sure grip of her fingers. Elsie gestured above them. "A night like this is a rare thing to see. We can afford to live a little."

They walked slowly, taking their time, relishing the feel of sand beneath their feet, water on their legs, and their hands holding them together.

"Are you tired?" He asked after a long time.

She shook her head. "No. Are you? Or are you asking because you want to get out?"

"I'm not tired," he said quickly. It was the truth. "And this is lovely-" he gestured above them and around, "-one of the nicest memories I can remember. But I do think I've had enough for now. I thought I could do this again before we left, with the children and the dogs. I know they've been asking me to." _Even Thomas asked me yesterday. Again._

She knew he meant it, not seeing the gleam in his eye when she turned back to the shore. She did not really want to get out of the water, but it was more than she had hoped for, for him to walk with her into the sea.

They had almost got back to where they started when Elsie stopped and bent over, giggling a little as she dropped her skirt, reaching for her foot.

"What is it? What's the matter?" He still held her right hand as she hopped on one leg.

"Oh," she laughed, "I've got a pebble stuck between my toes-"

"I'll get it," he said, dropping her hand to come around her front. He crouched down and grabbed her left leg just above her ankle. Digging his fingers into the sand beneath the water, he lifted her foot. She leaned forward to rest her hands on his shoulders.

He found the troublesome pebble between two of her toes and rolled it between his fingers. Then he tossed it away. Before he could stand up, another wave rolled in and splashed over his knees, wetting his tunic near to the waist and drenching his legs. He spluttered for a moment, tasting salt on his lips.

"Oh dear," her voice was low. "You are _very_ wet, my man."

Looking up, Charles wrapped his other hand around her right leg. "So are you."

She stood still, watching as he gathered her soaking wet skirt out of the tide, lifting it higher on her left leg.

It did not escape her attention that his hand moved higher on her right leg, the warmth of it solid against the back of her thigh. He lifted her skirt until her left leg was bare above the knee.

Then he pressed his open mouth on her wet skin.

" _Oh_ ," she gasped, her head thrown back, her eyes half shut. She clutched his shoulders. "Oh, that feels, _oh_ -"

He kissed her calf, lavished attention on the inside of her knee. She moved closer, her sighs and soft gasps telling him all he needed to know.

The taste, the _taste_ of her. He could never get enough. The lush fragrance of roses, the sweetness of honey, the richness of wine. All infused with the intoxicating salt of the sea, its scent all around him, in his nose, on the tip of his tongue.

"Charles," she panted, trying to lean away while also trying to let him continue, "we-we have to stop. Now." Her chest heaved, and his touch made her wild. _If he uses his tongue now, I am done for._

"Why?" he murmured, his soft lips exploring her thigh. She struggled to remain coherent.

"Be-because," she stuttered, "we have an audience."

That did make him stop. He gazed up at her, his dark eyes meeting hers.

"Where? Is anyone awake-" he began to turn his head, but she reached out and grabbed his formidable chin, pulling it up.

"Not there. _There_ ," she gestured with her head above them.

It was as though an invisible wind was rustling through the stars. He had never seen them in such…excitement, he supposed. _If they were a crowd of people, they'd be chattering madly…OH._

 _They_ are _alive._

She raised her eyebrows at his expression. He cleared his throat, frowning. "I see. We can't go to the tent," he whispered.

"I know," she raked a frustrated hand through her hair. He looked off at the rushing water, thinking.

"Will they…tell?"

Elsie heard the rest of his unspoken question. _Will the stars tell your father what they've seen? Or Victor?_

Glancing up again, she scanned them. Nearly all of them were friendly to her. None were enemies. "No," she said firmly. She was embarrassed at the thought of what, exactly, all of them would see, but the truth was there was little they had _not_ seen. Either from her, or from other gods.

And she was too far gone to even _think_ of stopping. Or caring.

She moved a little, thinking he would get up, but he held her in place. "Stay there," he said softly. When she rested a hand against the back of his neck, he smiled. "I'm not finished." He kissed her glistening skin slowly.

"Oh my _man_ ," she moaned, holding his head against her thigh. _What is he_ _doing_ _with his tongue, I am coming apart, oh my husband my lover my man do what you will with me, I am yours-_

Her skirt inched higher until her hip was exposed. She held it in place until his remarkable attention had so addled her she released it, dropping the cloth over him. She could no longer see him, hidden beneath her skirt.

But she could _feel_ him.

He heard her voice spiral higher, then higher again. He waited until she had stopped trembling before surfacing to smile up at her. With a groan, she leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth.

With difficulty, he stood, his legs complaining. They stood in the tide for an unknown length of time, their arms wrapped around each other, their hands wandering over backs and into hair, mouths and lips worshipping each other, sighs, whimpers, moans, gasps passing between them.

They broke away at the same time. An unspoken exchange between them done, they held each other's hands and raced out of the water up to the grass.

Back at their camp, he stripped off his tunic in one motion, then took the cloak and swept it over both of them. She removed her clothing under their covering.

"Elsie," he breathed, his hands sliding down her bare back and lower beneath the cloak. His wife pressed against him felt so good it brought tears to his eyes. "My love, you…are… _stunning_ ," he gasped as they moved as one. _How does she_ _do_ _that, her hands her lips her mouth, my wife my lover my goddess, I belong to you-_

They cried out together.

Kissing her gently on the lips, he ran his fingers into her hair, feeling grains of sand in them. He went to move, but she murmured against his lips.

"No," she whispered. "Stay here with me." She felt his mouth curve into a smile.

"Are you not finished?" he teased, feeling her foot trace his calf.

She raised her head, shaking it slowly. "With you? Never."

Stars whispered to each other, darted across the sky, hardly believing what they witnessed.

 _A man enamored with the Goddess is no surprise, but look how she desires him!_

Though they kept the secret among themselves, they never forgot.

* * *

The next morning, the day broke as clear and bright as the ones before. It was still early when Thomas and Daisy went for a walk with Freya.

He took a deep breath, relishing the feel of the water flowing gently over his feet, the sand in between his toes. "What are you looking for?" he asked his sister, who looked down, stopping every few steps to dig.

"Shells," she said, brushing sand off of one.

"Again? Haven't you already got enough?" She had been searching for an unbroken one to string on a necklace, and had found (he thought) the right one a day before. Not to count others she had collected for Ivy, Edward, her friends Lea and Eve, Anna, and Sybil.

"I need to find a good one for Phyllis," she muttered. "It's not like she'll be leaving Downton anytime soon."

"Suit yourself." He kept walking along the shore. The truth was, he had several scallop shells hidden in his pouch, and wanted to find a few more himself. _Two or three should be enough._

He had been walking and searching for a while, feeling the sun on the back of his neck. Picking up another small shell, he let the water wash the sand off, holding it in his hand.

 _Perfect. It's not broken. The right size, too…_

"What have you got there? A scallop shell? Those are rare."

He leaped to his feet and glared at Daisy. "Nice sister _you_ are, scaring me half to death! None of your concern," he opened the string around his pouch and dropped the shell in. It clinked against the others. Daisy grinned.

"It's nice of you to pick up shells for me, but I've already got some for myself, thank you."

Flustered, he spoke without thinking. "Who said they were for you?"

He knew he'd blown it when her eyes widened and she laughed, putting her hand to her mouth. "They're for Mother! Oh, I _knew_ you liked her-"

"I do not," he grumbled, embarrassed that his sister had so completely unmasked him. His face was beet red. "I don't _hate_ her, but that doesn't mean I _like_ her."

"Whatever you say, brother dear," she sang, her dimples showing. She whistled for Freya. "C'mon, race you back."

He stood watching her run down the beach for a moment before running after her.


	37. Farewell to The Sea

**A/N: I am SO SORRY for the wait on this. Life, writer funk, general funk, writing ahead in this story rather than what's right in front of me and visitors in the house…I swear, this summer has felt like an endless parade. This is the FIRST chapter posted tonight, though. I broke it up, instead of having one long chapter.**

 **So please – READ THIS ONE (37) FIRST.**

 **Your reviews, comments, reblogs, and extra hands for house-cleaning are all very appreciated! (If you'd just do the first three, that's okay. I'm certain a house-elf will turn up any day to take care of the fourth.) Also, a great big thank you to all of my reviewers, because this is now my most-reviewed fic, with 300 up to this point. THIS. IS. SPARTA!**

 **Please keep it up, your thoughts on this ongoing saga keep me going. Truly, they do.**

* * *

Charles waited for the wave to bring the stick back. Picking it up out of the foaming water, he waved it above his head.

"Ve!" he shouted. "Here it is!"

"Poor thing, he _lost_ it," Daisy sighed. Both of them watched the dog paddle in. She leaned over and patted the animal's side. "Never mind, you've done well." Ve shook himself dry, then trotted up the beach to their camp.

"He's probably thirsty," Charles twirled the stick in his hand. "Elsie's there, she'll give him water."

He and his daughter walked further down the beach, talking about their time there. Daisy was elated her papa had finally given in, and was happy to spend their last day in the sea.

"It's so lovely. I'm going to miss it," she sighed, looking to the horizon. She jumped a little as a larger wave rolled in. It drenched her to the waist. "Well," she said laughing, looking at her father, "maybe not _everything_."

Grinning, Charles reached to pull a wet strand of hair from her face. "You'll take a little of it with you. All the sun you've gotten here – your freckles have come out!" He rubbed his finger across her cheeks and tapped her nose fondly.

"Hmm," she shrugged. "I don't like them." She walked a little closer to the shore.

"Why not?" he asked, curious. "They are a part of you."

"Maybe," she looked cross, "but they're _ugly_."

He put an arm around her shoulder, hugging her to him. "They are _not_ ," he murmured. "And never think they are. When your mother got lots of sunshine, freckles appeared on her face, too."

Daisy looked up at him, a question in her eyes. "Mum? She had freckles? I don't remember seeing them."

"She did," he assured her. "They'd appear in the summer, when she was with you and your brother, while you played in the meadow." At her dubious expression, he raised his eyebrows. "If you don't believe me, ask Thomas. I'm sure _he_ remembers." He gave her a grin. "He has her eyes, you know."

"All right, I believe you," she half-smiled, returning his hug. They continued walking, their arms around each other. "I…don't remember what she looks like," she said abruptly. "I can't see her face anymore…not what she looked like when she was well, anyway. I remember her hugging me, telling me stories until I fell asleep, showing me how to bake bread. We did that a lot," she tried to smile, but her chin quivered.

Charles pulled her closer and kissed the side of her head. "It's all right," he whispered his arms around her. His heart ached for her. "You remember the things that _are_ important. The things she taught you. That she loved you," he looked down at her and wiped tears from her face with his fingers. "You and Thomas. More than anything. You both were everything to her."

"B-but," Daisy protested, still crying, "What kind of daughter am I, forgetting what she looked like? It's insulting to her memory-"

"It's hard to remember everyone's faces when you don't see them every day," he tried to comfort her. "You aren't _trying_ to forget your mother. It just happens." He sighed, letting a wave wash over their feet. Privately, he thought she may have tried to forget Alice, at least how she looked near the end of her life. _She was ill for so long._ "I don't remember my mother's face, either. Or my father's."

She snuffled against his chest. "They died a long time ago."

"Yes," Charles whispered, feeling his throat tighten. "But that doesn't mean I've forgotten them completely. Or that I don't miss them sometimes." Smiling, he gazed out at the sea. "I can still remember my papa's voice. Even if I was playing on the far side of the meadow and he was down the hill, I could hear his booming voice calling for me."

She giggled a little. "He sounds like someone I know."

"Oh? Who?" he asked in mock curiosity, raising his eyebrows. She shook her head a little, a gleam in her eyes, before her face grew serious again.

"How long did you remember them? After they died? Before…" Her voice trailed off. He knew what she asked without words.

"By the time your mother and I married, I had trouble remembering their faces," he confessed. They continued walking in the sand and water. "Mum died not long after Papa, when I was a little older than Thomas. Older than you," he said. "Your mother and I were betrothed before Papa sailed away, but we had to wait a while before we married. She was a great comfort to me." His vision was far off.

" _You_ still remember what she looked like."

Nodding, he ran a hand through his hair, feeling how tangled it was in the wind. "She was a good woman, who was good to me."

He was glad in a way Daisy talked about Alice. He suspected Thomas talked about her more, but not to him.

There were times when he watched the flock that old memories would flit through his mind. They had faded, but many were still clear. Alice, walking to the house, carrying flowers. Her doing the washing in the stream. Baking bread and making cheese. Sitting with Thomas as a small boy beside the well, teaching him to read. Holding a newborn Daisy. Looking up to see him standing in the doorway. Love shining in her eyes.

"Do you miss her?"

Thankful his daughter could not read his thoughts, he squished his toes in the sand. "Sometimes," he said carefully. It was not a lie. He _had_ missed her in the past. Especially in the seasons right after she had died. He had been very lonely.

But since his marriage to Elsie, he found his memories of Alice had changed. He thought of his first wife fondly, and sometimes wondered what she would say about certain things. Like Thomas serving the king, or Daisy growing into a woman. More often, it was with a certain twinge of guilt added on that he did not like to think about.

 _She loved me more than I loved her._

 _I wish I could have been a better mate. One she deserved._

 _We would have grown closer as we aged, surely, but we never would have had the same union as I have with Elsie._

They stopped. The waves kept reaching their feet.

"You loved her," Daisy watched her father. "Mum." She nudged him a little so he would look at her.

"Of course I did," he said, meeting her eyes.

"But not as much as you love Mother. Not as much as Elsie."

His face turned red. "I-it's not like that-" Stammering, he tried to think of a way to explain so as not to offend her. She half-smiled and patted his elbow.

"I know you do," she said quietly. "And I accept it. It's not that you didn't love Mum. But you're so _happy_ now, not like when I was small. Then I remember you being happy sometimes. Now you…you are so calm _all_ the time. Except when we came here to the sea, of course," her eyes twinkled a bit. "I don't know," she shook her head. "Maybe I can't explain it very well."

Charles could not think of what to say. A flood of emotion threatened to overwhelm him.

 _She knows. And she…accepts it._

 _My little girl is not so little anymore._

"Come here," he whispered, hugging her tight. She hugged him back. "You are right, you know," he said into her hair. "But just because I feel more deeply for Elsie doesn't mean how I feel towards my children has changed. I never want you or Thomas to think I don't love you with my whole heart."

"I know you do," she replied. "And Thomas knows that too, even if he won't admit it." She sighed. "I think what I'm afraid of is that _I_ might love her more than Mum. And that'd be wrong. But I don't know if I do or not, or if it's just because Mother's here _now_." She took a step back and looked up at him, a glimmer of fear in her eyes. "I'd never want Mum to think I didn't love her more."

"And you never would, or have," he said confidently. "Trust me. You love your mother very much." _More than you know._ "And I know you love Elsie too," he put his arm around her and turned them around to face the other direction. "There is nothing wrong with that. She loves you dearly, but she would never supplant Alice. Not in your heart, or in Thomas's. She understands that, and she's not jealous of it. And while I can't say for certain, from what I know of your mother, I think she would be pleased to know you have someone nearby other than me who cares for you. But your mum will always be very dear to you. No matter if you forget what she looked like, or how many other people you care for."

 _Alice was not jealous, either._

He felt the tension leave her shoulders. "Do you really think so?" Daisy asked. Freya lay sprawled in the shade in the tall grass above the sand, and when they got nearer, she got up and trotted down to them.

"I know so." Charles bent down and rubbed the dog's head.

"I love you, Papa," Daisy petted Freya's back. "And you too," she said as Freya swung her head around to look at her.

"I love you, petal," Charles replied, a smile appearing on his face.

* * *

The late afternoon burned orange. The light sparkled on the rippling waves so much that Charles could not look directly into it. He turned sideways as another wave washed by him. Nearby, Thomas lazily swam back and forth, his arms visible.

Charles sighed, sinking until his nose was just above the surface, and pulling his feet up to tread water. He enjoyed swimming in the sea. He was sorry that his fear had kept him from enjoying it more, especially with his family.

 _At least I had one day. And last night._

Smirking, he closed his eyes as blissful memories danced through his mind. Elsie, being chased by the waves. Elsie, offering him her hand so they could have a paddle. Elsie, moaning beneath him…

Something grabbed his foot, and he was yanked under the water. He almost panicked but whatever grabbed his foot had let go, so he shot right back above the water. Spluttering, he made sure to set his feet firmly on the ground. His eyes burned from the salt water. He blinked, trying to see through the glare.

Thomas stood next to him, his expression nervous. Charles wiped his face.

"Was that you?"

"Yes," his son replied. He looked tense.

"Oh." Blowing water out of his nose, Charles tread water as another wave washed by them. Thomas, convinced his father was _not_ about to explode, sighed and swam backwards.

Without warning, Charles tackled him and dunked him.

"Wha-" Coughing, Thomas resurfaced, his hair dripping. Charles laughed, poking him in the back.

"That should teach you a lesson, not to attack your old father," he said.

"I think I've got sand up my nose," Thomas grumbled, holding his face. "Ugh…" Laughing harder, Charles splashed him, feeling the smack of another wave against his back. Thomas bent over, wincing.

Until he suddenly turned and grabbed his father.

Charles gasped, but dug his feet into the sand, trying to throw him off. "You-won't move me-that easily-"

"We'll see," Thomas panted, smiling. They both lost their grip at the same time and tumbled underwater as a bigger wave crashed over them.

Daisy stood in the tall grass, her mouth agape. Elsie approached her from behind.

"Tell them to come in, the fish are almost done-"

"No!" Daisy held out her arm, stopping her from walking forward. "It can wait!"

"It certainly can," Elsie agreed, her eyes widening at the sight of the two scuffling in the water. She and Daisy looked at each other in delighted shock.

* * *

The sound of the waves echoed through the tent. Instead of lulling Charles to sleep, it kept him awake. He sighed, turning a little to stretch his arm. Elsie shifted a little. She pulled his arm back around her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered.

His breath tickled her neck. "You didn't," she murmured. "I was listening to the sea, and wondering how I'll ever sleep when we get home without it."

He kissed her shoulder. "You don't want to leave."

"No. But we must."

"I don't want to, either. At least, not in the morning. But then it's my own fault, for not recognizing the joy of the sea sooner." Charles laughed, then groaned. "Oooh…it was fun dunking Thomas, but he's fitter than I am."

Elsie giggled, running her fingers along his arm. "It was good to see the two of you enjoying yourselves. I'm so glad you're friends again."

"Yes," he smiled into her hair. "It's been a long time since we've spent time together, and not argued about something. I hope things between us will continue to improve after we go home. Maybe," he mused, "we needed to be away from home to see each other in a new way."

"Maybe." Turning over, she put a hand on his chest. " _I've_ seen you in a new way, being here."

"How?" His arms pulled her closer.

"You were afraid," she whispered. "But you overcame your fear, and went into the sea anyway. I'm proud of you." She kissed him softly.

"I was enchanted by a beautiful woman under the stars," he murmured. "Without her help, I doubt I would have stepped into the water."

"Flatterer," her breath hitched as his lips left the curve of her jaw to dance across the soft skin of her neck. "I think even without my help, you would have gone in. You're braver than you know…"

Her words faded as her desire grew. He was so gentle, so tender, and he knew what she liked. His touch left her gasping.

"I need your help now," he rumbled against her chest. "Elsie, wife, I _need_ …you."

"Now," she moaned, tears in her eyes. " _Now_ , my lover, my husband-"

She cried out. He let out a gasp, mindful of the children sleeping outside.

The stars fluttered in the night sky.

* * *

The family left Staithes the next morning.

All of them, the dogs included, had one last walk in the water shortly after dawn. They could hear the crying of the seagulls long after they had ascended back to the top of the bluffs. The road seemed steeper climbing it than it had on their descent to the market town.

Charles let out a breath, and squeezed Elsie's shoulder. "Well done," he said. "I'm glad _that_ ride is over, and I'm sure you are too!"

"I am," she said beneath her veil. She was not happy to wear it again, but knew it was the right thing to do. Just to be safe.

They took a less traveled road, one that went north of Loftus, before meeting the main road again. Their journey west was much faster. It was only partly due to them having a much lighter wagon, with only a few choice rams and ewes that Charles and Elsie had bought before they left the market.

Everyone was eager to get home.

Stopping at the king's palace in Painswick, they were welcomed again by Rosamund. The king, Marmaduke, was there as well, so they did not linger long.

Robert, Charles and Elsie agreed afterward, was much more fortunate with his mate than his sister was with hers. The ruler of Painswick did not seem a bad sort, but he did seem exceptionally dull and interested in little except hunting. Elsie was certain his kingdom was ruled mostly by his wife.

Rosamund had given Thomas several letters, all to members of her family. "I trust you," she had said to him outside the gates of her palace, "more than the messengers Marmaduke hires. They sell gossip like wine-sellers before a feast."

She had taken letters from Thomas and Charles, after asking what their contents were. They were short letters sent to Edward and Drake to tell them when the family would arrive back at home.

A rider, a personal servant of Rosamund's, would deliver them.

"Couldn't you send your letters with him as well, milady?" Thomas had asked, confused. "I am honored that you would send them with me, but there's no need." Charles had been no less perplexed.

"Your servant will have to go to the king's hall as well to give Thomas's letter to Edward," he frowned.

"I am aware of that," she had said. "I consider him more trustworthy than Marmaduke's men, but I _only_ trust he will deliver your letters quickly. He may open them himself out of curiosity. My own letters have been opened by him in the past." She sighed. "I would not send Fred with yours if it wasn't more important that your letters arrive before you do."

"Indeed," Charles had agreed. He had written to ask May to go to the house and sweep it out before they arrived. Alfred and Andrew would return any day - if they had not already. No doubt Drake would be happy for his son Jacob to help with his farm again.

Neither he nor Thomas liked the idea of their letters being read by someone else, but there was nothing in them to interest a simple messenger from Painswick.

"Thomas," Rosamund had turned to the young man, "it is more vital that my letters to my brother and his family arrive unopened than that they arrive quickly. I know I can trust you to put them into their hands."

She had sent the family on their way with gifts of food.

* * *

Daisy sighed, glancing up at the sky. The rain had passed by, but instead of leaving a freshness behind, the air was more stagnant than ever.

"What's wrong?" Elsie asked. Her hood was down, and she was very grateful they were back in Robert's kingdom again. She would not have been able to stand the veil in the heat.

"Nothing," the girl sighed again, fidgeting. "I'm just ready to be home. I'm tired of sleeping in the wagon, or under it, or in the tent – when you and Papa let us, that is," she grinned. "My whole body aches from sitting all the time!"

"Mine too," Elsie glanced in the back of the wagon. Thomas and Charles sat on either side, half-asleep. "Especially my bum."

Daisy laughed through a yawn, nodding. "I hope Master Drake got Papa's letter, and May swept out the house. No one's been in there since the last moon!"

"If she hasn't, then we'll do it. Open the shutters, let air inside-"

"It's likely just as stifling there as it is here," Daisy grumbled. Elsie bit back a chuckle.

"You sound like Charles when you talk like that. Only a short way to go," she reminded her. "We passed Thirsk already. We should be able to see the trees around the shrine soon."

In a little while, she drove the wagon off the main road and onto a smaller path. The horses nickered. "You see?" Elsie said, keeping a tight hold on the reins. "They know their way home. We're nearly there."

The fields around Drake's farm were in full growth. The corn growing to the sky, the barley rich with nary a weed to be seen. A lad carrying two buckets on his shoulders saw them coming. He dropped them and ran towards the low house.

"We're here!" Daisy squealed, and called back to her father and brother. They both woke, rubbing their eyes. As Elsie drove closer to the house, a man and woman stepped outside.

A dog streaked from a shaded area near the goat pen towards them. The wagon had not come to a complete stop before Daisy jumped off the side.

"Daisy!" Charles yelled, trying to stand up.

"It's all right," Thomas said, a line on the side of his face. "She just wants to see Remme."

Daisy and Remme hit each other at the same time. The girl fell over, laughing, hugging the animal, as Remme licked her face.

"I _missed_ you!" Daisy cried. "Oh, and here's Freya and Ve-"

Charles had opened the back of the wagon. Freya raced over to Remme, in the process knocking over Daisy again as she tried to stand up.

"I think they're excited, don't you?" Charles asked Elsie in an undertone, helping her down from the wagon.

"Yes, a little," she smiled at the two dogs, who whimpered in joy, nuzzling each other. Ordering Ve to stay by the sheep, she gave Daisy a hand to help her to her feet.

"Welcome back, Charles," Drake unharnessed the horses. He patted their noses. "You've taken good care of my animals, I see."

"Thank you. They were wonderful," Charles shook his hand. "The journey there was more difficult than the way back, thank the gods. How are _our_ animals? How is the flock?"

"Doing well. The only problem Jacob had was boredom, but your lad Andy came back two days ago, so at least we've had some relief. May's at your house now. We received your letter two days ago." Drake looked down at Freya and Remme, who were still quite excited. "Remme was a _great_ find. A better hunter I've never seen. Listen," he said, holding a small pouch of coins, "I'm willing to give you fifteen for her."

Smiling, Charles shook his head. "No. I appreciate the offer, but we're not selling her."

"If I can't persuade you, maybe I can persuade your wife," Drake looked in Elsie's direction. She had covered her head again with her hood.

"I doubt it," The smile on Charles's face faded. He did not miss the gleam in his neighbor's eye. And yet he knew it was rude to not at least introduce Elsie to Drake. "You can ask her, but I warn you, she will likely say no." He gestured for her to join them.

Elsie reluctantly made her way to the two men. It was not the look on Drake's face that made her hesitate. She was long used to that by now.

It was more the pinched face and suspicious eyes of his wife watching her.

 _Why should I care what she thinks? A mortal woman who thinks any female short of the priestesses is after her husband?_

And yet she did care.

"Drake, this is Elsie," Charles said. "Elsie, this is Drake, May's brother."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Elsie took one look at the man's face and knew it was hopeless. He gaped at her openly, his eyes vacant.

 _At least Richard and other men in Downton had the restraint to be polite._

Charles cleared his throat. "Yes, we were talking about Remme. Drake made an offer for her."

"For Remme?" Elsie asked, raising her eyebrows. "That's very generous of you, but I'm sorry. We aren't selling her."

Drake's mouth still hung open. Thomas and Daisy glanced at each other, rolling their eyes.

"By the gods," Thomas muttered. "Is he going to slobber on the ground like one of the dogs?" Daisy stuffed her fingers in her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

"…generous," mumbled the farmer.

His irate wife had had enough. She marched over to them and thumped her husband on the back of his head. Charles winced. He had a feeling it was not the first time that had happened.

" _Ow!_ " Drake roared, holding his ear. "Oi, woman, what's the _matter_ with you?"

"You disgrace yourself!" she snapped. "Can't even talk to the woman without looking like a fool!"

Despite not liking the way Drake looked at her, Elsie felt rather sorry for him.

"Mistress Petunia," Charles replied, "We were only talking about the dogs."

"Will you take his offer, then?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"No," Charles and Elsie said together.

"We thank you for letting us borrow her then, and for bringing our horses back in one piece," Petunia grabbed Drake's arm. He flinched. The two of them headed back to the house, Drake leading the horses, his wife berating him the whole way.

The family exchanged awkward glances.

"Let's go home." Thomas said in the sudden quiet.

"Good idea." Elsie divided the various bundles and water skins from the wagon that were theirs, and everyone carried something. Charles whistled for the dogs to guide their sheep, and they set out towards the meadow.

"Please tell me you won't ever be that jealous over me," Charles murmured under his breath.

"Of course I won't," Elsie playfully nudged his arm. She knew her husband had eyes for no one else.

* * *

 **A/N 2: I know, I know. Chapters getting them to Staithes, then I bring them back all in one. But stuff happens back at home...**


	38. A Welcome

**A/N: SECOND CHAPTER POSTED TONIGHT. IF YOU HAVE NOT READ CHAPTER 37, GO BACK AND COLLECT YOUR TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS.**

 **If there are any massive mistakes in this chapter or the last one, I apologize.**

* * *

A small group of sheep clustered in the shade of the ash tree. Andy saw people coming, and leaped to his feet.

"We didn't know you were coming today!" he yelled, beaming, as they all approached. "I mean, we hoped you would, but we weren't sure!"

Charles patted the young man on the shoulder. "You're looking well. Did you have a nice time with your family?"

"Oh yes," Andy practically bounced on his feet. "They're all well. My sister Lisa had _another_ baby though, so Mum kept trying to get me to hold her while I was there. I didn't fancy that - a reddish, screaming thing! And a house full of women, and little kids – I was ready to come back and see you all. Even the sheep! I think we all were."

"'We'?" Elsie asked, looking amused. "I'm sure May has enjoyed not having to sweep out your house while you, Alfred and Jimmy were gone."

Andy's eyes got big, and he stuttered. "Well…I'm sure she has…"

"Wait." Thomas cut him off. "Who _else_ is at our house?"

Even as he told himself that Edward wasn't there, he dared to hope. But surely the king would not have let him go for the day – he would not have been entirely sure, as Andy said, that this would be the day they would arrive home.

Andy smiled, his eyes gleaming. "You'll see."

"I'll stay here for a while," Charles said, kissing Elsie. "The rest of you go on," he whispered to her, "I'm sure Andrew would like to go, too. I expect you back here before sunset," he told his apprentice, giving him the water skins he'd been carrying.

"Yes, Master Shepherd." Andy grinned at Daisy, who grinned back, her face pink. They walked in front of Elsie and Thomas.

Elsie hid a smile. It was obvious Thomas wanted to run, but was holding back so as not to give away his excitement.

 _I hope Edward_ _is_ _there. He would be so disappointed if he isn't!_

She thought it more likely that Ivy or perhaps Phyllis were at the house.

She was right about one of them.

Ivy appeared in the doorway when Andy shouted down the hill. Daisy squealed and ran to hug her friend. May came outside, smiling.

Thomas dropped his water skins when Edward appeared. His mate gestured with his head towards the stream, and the two headed off without a word to anyone. Elsie was not surprised they didn't embrace each other in front of the others, but she did see them wrap their arms around each other as they disappeared behind the goat pen. She smiled.

 _We won't see them for a while._

"You all must be exhausted after your long journey," May said, waving the others closer. "I hope my sister-in-law didn't frighten you too much."

"Just a little," Elsie laughed. "I hope she didn't hit your brother _too_ hard."

May scoffed, her hands on her hips. "He isn't the brightest man, but he doesn't deserve the way she treats him."

"Do I smell bread? And cheese?" Daisy asked, looking eagerly at the older woman. "Have you and Ivy been baking all day? What if we hadn't got back today?"

"Then we would have wrapped everything, and hoped you'd come home tomorrow," a familiar voice said. Anna came outside fanning herself, her face red. "Oh my, it's warm in there!" She laughed at Daisy's dumbfounded expression and gave her a huge hug. "There hasn't been much going on at the hall. Lady Mary let me come yesterday, and today. I've been learning to bake, seeing as I'll be a married woman soon," her blue eyes sparkled. "I needed lessons _badly_."

"It's kind of you to be here to welcome us," Elsie said. "And I'm sure you cannot be as bad of a cook as _I_ was." She and Anna hugged.

"Oh, I don't know," the blond woman laughed. "I warned John to expect burned bread and lumpy cheese."

"Really, Anna, you're not _that_ bad." Elsie whipped her head toward the door. Her heart swelled. Sybil brushed flour from her hands. "Not nearly as bad as I was."

Her eyes met Elsie's for only a moment before Daisy knocked her backwards into the door. " _You're_ here, too!? Who else is!?"

Sybil laughed, rubbing her back. "Just me, Anna, Ivy and May. I see Andy came with you from the meadow," she nodded in his direction. He crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. "Oh, and Edward, of course. He kept tasting what we were baking. May was just about to throw him outside when you all arrived."

They all sat down on the hill below the house, eating and talking nonstop. As much as Elsie wanted to have time with her daughter alone, she knew it was not the right time. Sybil mouthed to her once, across the circle. _Later._

There was not much news in Downton. It seemed that the harvest in the autumn would be plentiful. Phyllis and Joseph sent their regards. The wheelwright's wife's sickness was finally easing, but her husband still fretted over her condition.

"She's so pretty," Ivy said, her mouth full of cheese. "I don't know why women carrying children look beautiful, but she does."

"Not all of them do," May countered. "Isobel told me once she was ill almost the entire time she carried Master Matthew. She said she was relieved when he was born that he didn't look grey and worn-out, like she felt!"

Joseph and his father, Master Bill, had been helping John build his house. It was nearly finished. Anna had seen it before they had put the roof on, but not since.

"I know what it's going to look like when it's done, because John told me," she said. "But I want it to be a surprise."

"It's not like you'll be much interested in the house the first time you see it, though," Sybil said. "On your wedding night, you'll be interested in something else."

Elsie raised an eyebrow at her, but Sybil only grinned rather wickedly back. Daisy and Ivy giggled. Both Anna and Andy turned pink, though Anna smiled. Andy looked mortified. He left a short while later to watch the flock.

"Poor boy," May said. "Daisy, he must like you a lot to listen to all of us women jabber on! After being home with women for days!"

"Maybe he does," she grinned, blushing. "We _were_ talking about things he shouldn't hear," Daisy admitted, brushing her fingers through her hair. "Childbirth, the wedding night…we should have waited to talk about all of that until the women's feast, before Anna's wedding."

There was an awkward silence. Anna's shoulders slumped, and she clutched her hands in her lap.

"What did I say?" Daisy asked. Sybil and Ivy glanced at each other.

"There isn't going to be a women's feast," Anna said bravely. Her voice wobbled a little. "I don't blame you, Daisy, for thinking there would _be_ one. You see," she swallowed, blinking rather fast, "My stepfather died two summers ago. But when I wrote to my mother and asked her to come, she…"

Her voice trailed off. Elsie glanced at May, whose face was thunderous.

"It is _her_ loss, Anna, not wanting to see her own daughter married, never mind the feast! The woman has _no_ shame!"

"My sister Gracie would come, but she lives in Shackleton with her husband now. He's a farmer, and they can't travel so far so soon before the harvest," Anna soldiered on. "I…should have known Mum hadn't forgiven me for leaving, not even after her husband died." The hurt in her voice was palpable. "She always did take his side." What she didn't say hung in the air. _Over me._

Sybil put an arm around Anna's shoulder.

Ivy shook her head, her face as stormy as May's. "It's _wrong_ of her not to come! But if she doesn't want to be here, you're better off not having her here to ruin a feast, or your wedding!"

Anger rose in Elsie, and she yanked several strands of grass from the ground. Her eyes blazed. The women's feast was an old tradition, given by the bride's female relatives several days before her wedding. For Anna's mother to reject her invitation, and deny her the comfort and company of her own relatives, was beyond the pale.

She did not want to think any more about a woman who refused to come to her own daughter's wedding. Her eyes blazed, and she blew out a long breath. She'd revert to divine form instantly.

"Is there anyone else who might come?" Sybil asked gently. "A grandmother, aunts, or cousins?"

Anna shook her head, wiping the corner of her eye. "My one gran died before I was born, and the other when I was tiny. My dad had only brothers, and they all lived in Painswick. I've only met two of them, and that was a long time ago. Mum had a brother, and his wife Nola was always good to me and Gracie. But after my uncle died, she went to live with her sister. I haven't seen her since before Dad died." She shrugged, trying to smile. "I'll be fine. Not every bride has a women's feast, and not every woman has her mother at her wedding. John will be there. That's all I need."

"Spoken like a true bride," Sybil wiped a tear from Anna's cheek. She leaned closer and said in a loud whisper, "But don't tell him that. We don't want him becoming _conceited_."

Everyone was still laughing when Charles came up the hill.

"Andrew said he would watch the flock for the rest of the day," he said, sinking down beside Elsie with a sigh. "For which I am very grateful." He smiled at everyone sitting there. "It was kind of you all to welcome us." He gladly took some offered bread and fish from May.

"We were glad to be able to come," Sybil told him. "The family let us have the day off."

"Although," Anna said to her, smiling, "Master George was _quite_ insistent we not return without Thomas. He's missed his friend very much while you all were away!"

"But I'm sure Edward played with him if he got the chance," Elsie leaned back on her hands.

"He did play with him," Sybil said, as she and Anna exchanged grins. "As well as Anna and I sometimes. But we're not his _best_ friend."

Swallowing his fish with difficulty, Charles raised his eyebrows. " _Thomas_ is his best friend? Master George is a tiny boy, and furthermore, he's heir to the king!"

He was a little shocked, and wondered if his son had overstepped himself at the court.

"There's nothing improper about it," Anna said quickly, seeing what he was thinking. "That little boy took a shine to Thomas since he could walk. His Lordship and Lady Mary don't mind. And Thomas knows his place, he knows he's a servant." Her eyes were warm. "He's very fond of Master George, your son. He treats him like a little brother. On a cold day at the palace last autumn, he carried him up and down the stairs twenty times because George kept asking him to!"

Charles relaxed a little. "It sounds like he spoils him."

"That's what I told him," Daisy piped up. "He just told me, 'There'll be plenty of time for him to have to grow up and do unpleasant things! It's better to let him be a child while he can!'"

Her father stared at her. "This is _Thomas_ we're talking about, yes?"

"Yes," she giggled. "I know, it surprised me that he was such a softie, too."

"It's not that much of a surprise, not really," he said quietly. "He was that way with you. When you were a baby. You probably don't remember. Nothing made him happier than to make you laugh. He would pull the most horrible faces, and you'd giggle all day. I…didn't know he was still like that."

"That's so sweet!" Sybil sighed, Anna along with her. Daisy was astonished, and speechless.

"Was he really like that?" Ivy asked, incredulous.

May nodded. "I remember seeing Daisy under that tree, just there," she pointed up at the tall one shading the house. "Thomas, dangling a cloth over her face and pulling it away." She sighed, her own expression soft. "I still remember the way she laughed. I think," she chuckled at Daisy, "you laughed so hard, you gave yourself the hiccups!"

Elsie leaned over to Charles, her hand on his shoulder. "That is the sweetest story I've heard in a long time." Privately, she was not really surprised that Thomas had a gentler side to him.

 _He tries to hide it._

Charles, still smiling, brushed crumbs off of his hands. "Where is Thomas? I would have expected him to be here, getting his fair share of this lovely meal. And Edward too – Andrew told me he was here as well."

There was an awkward silence.

"They took a walk," Elsie said. "A little while ago." Charles looked at her.

"I hope they didn't go too far. It's a warm day. The two of them, Anna, and Sybil, will have to return to the hall tonight." He got to his feet. "I'll go look for them-"

Grabbing his wrist, Elsie held him in place. "I'm sure they're fine," she said quietly, looking up at him and giving him an intense stare when he raised his eyebrows at her. "They're _fine_ ," she repeated. "When they get hungry enough, and thirsty enough, they'll come back. I'm sure they didn't go far."

He stared back at her, a little gleam of understanding in his eyes. "I'm sure you're right," he said finally, and sat back down.

"The more you say that, the better things will be for you," she teased him.

May snorted and shook her head. "Now you're beginning to sound like my sister-in-law."

Anna and Ivy stayed for a little while longer before leaving for Downton. Ivy needed to go home, and Anna wanted to visit with John. She would go back to the king's hall that evening with the others.

May and Daisy went back into the house. "It was really good, everything you and the others made," Daisy said, her dimples showing, "But I'd like to show Anna how to make _really_ good bread before she gets married."

"I'm sure you'll get the chance, if not before, then after the wedding," Charles stepped through the doorway, picking at his teeth with a wooden toothpick. "You'll see her a lot after. She'll be living in the village then." He looked around the room. "Everything still looks the same. Thank you, May."

"You're welcome," she said. "To be honest, I'm glad to have you all back, and the lads too. Petunia drives me mad. Oh, did Anna tell you?" she set aside an oil lamp on the hearth. "Alfred came back yesterday, but he's spending time with his Aunt Sarah today. I can't think why," she shook her head. "He told Anna that he'd be back here at dawn."

"Good," Charles's eyes lit up at the sight next to the hearth. "Marvelous, there's more cheese left over!"

" _Still_ hungry?" May was exasperated. "Poor Elsie, trying to feed _you_ , much less anyone else!" She bent down and picked up the bucket. "I want to give the floor one last scrub before I leave. The girls did a good job baking, but the cat came in here, and made a mess trekking through the flour. I'd rather _I_ clean it up. Your wife'll be doing it again, starting tomorrow."

"I'll get water," Daisy offered, taking the bucket. "You've done so much already." She headed outside. Charles and May chatted, their voices carrying through the open door. She pulled on the rope at the well and poured some of the cool water it brought up into her bucket, careful not to spill too much.

Picking up her heavier burden, she stopped at the sight below her, further down the hill.

In the shade of some shrubbery, Elsie and Sybil sat side by side. Daisy couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was the way they moved that caught her attention. Sybil leaned her head on Elsie's shoulder, and their arms were around each other. Elsie reached over and tenderly moved a long dark strand of hair out of Sybil's face, making the young woman smile. Daisy felt the hair on her arms stand up.

 _Like Freya and Remme._

After a moment, she went back into the house.

* * *

"My dear child," Elsie whispered, "I have _missed_ you."

"And I you," Sybil murmured, "It's strange. At home, we sometimes spend years in the lives of mortals without seeing each other. Here, I don't see you for days, and I miss you all the more." She laughed under her breath. "I am glad you saw Tom."

"He always appears when I least expect it," Elsie kissed her on her temple. "But he's always welcome. And so are you. Always." She hummed a little as the afternoon sun cast shadows behind them. "In the divine halls," she said in a low voice, "Time does not matter like it does here. Or maybe the mortals _do_ more with the time they have, little as it is."

They walked in the meadow as the sun gradually sank west. Sybil had read Thomas's letter to Edward (with his permission), but she was curious as to what had happened on the way to Staithes.

"If he had not been following me, I would have had to take my true form," Elsie sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Of course I never would have let those evil…men do anything further to me, but Thomas didn't know that. He was badly beaten before Freya and Ve rescued him."

"I am so glad he's all right," Sybil replied. She squeezed her mother's hand. "And that you and he are friends now."

"Yes," a warm smile appeared on Elsie's face. "He and Charles, I think, are on their way to repairing the bridge between them as well."

"So the journey was a healing one." Beaming, Sybil swung their hands between them. "For you and Thomas, and for him and his father. And for Charles, to confront his fear of the sea." Her beautiful eyes grew contemplative. "I am glad you know about his father. What happened to him. If Tom had not told you, _I_ would have. I thought of telling you before you left, but there wasn't the opportunity." She glanced up at the fluffy white clouds that moved lazily through the sky. "Peace reigns in the family. What else could I want?"

Thomas and Edward returned to the house as she and Sybil were coming back. Both young men were ravenously hungry and thirsty. Charles noticed his son's rumpled tunic and hair, but said nothing about it. Edward's face was flushed. The shepherd did not think it was due to the sun.

May had gone home, so six people sat outside for a light meal before the setting sun. More than once, Elsie and Charles met each other's eyes while the younger ones chattered and laughed.

Both were immensely happy to have their children at home, but also sad that all of them would be leaving soon.

Sybil, Thomas and Edward left soon after they ate. They needed to meet Anna in Downton and walk back to the king's hall before moonrise. Charles would take Daisy back to the village in the morning.

* * *

The first stars were appearing above the house. The low rumble of Charles's voice could be heard as he softly said his prayers inside. Elsie smiled as Daisy joined her.

"We saw some beautiful sunsets while we were away, but none better than this one," she said, sighing. "I _am_ glad to be home. Even though Thomas had to leave earlier, and you tomorrow. At least we'll all be together at Anna and John's wedding."

Daisy nodded. Elsie tilted her head in her direction.

"You've been very quiet since supper. Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes," Daisy said. She swallowed, wondering how to say what she thought. _What if I'm wrong?_

 _What if I'm_ _right_ _?_

She was not sure what she would think if that were true.

"Is something wrong, Daisy?" Elsie's voice was gentle. The girl took a long breath.

"No. Not…not exactly." She turned to look at her stepmother. "I was wondering…I don't want to make you angry," she stopped, her big eyes fearful.

"I doubt you could," Elsie replied, her hands folded. Something was obviously on the girl's mind.

"Is Sybil your daughter?" Daisy asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Elsie blinked. She felt a chill down her spine.

 _If_ _she_ _can see it, who else can?_

She opened her mouth, then closed it. It would do no good to deflect the question. She did not want to lie, either.

"Yes." She was unable to keep one question from escaping. "How did you know?"

"I saw both of you this afternoon," Daisy said, a line between her eyes. "Sitting together on the hill. It reminded me of seeing Freya and Remme, after we got home. They're mother and daughter, too." She hesitated, digging a toe into the ground. "Does Papa know?"

"Yes, he does." Elsie replied steadily.

"I wondered then, too," the young girl continued in a rush, her heart sinking. "When they left for the hall. She _hugged_ Papa, and I thought he'd be annoyed. He doesn't just hug everyone, that's not his way. But he seemed happy when she did."

"He wants to get to know her better," Elsie glanced toward the road. "He is happy that she accepts him. Like I was happy when you accepted me." She smiled at Daisy, but it faded at her gloomy expression. "I am sorry I didn't tell you before. My family…is not the closest," she said, trying not to think about how much of an understatement that was. "And some of my relatives can be cruel. I didn't want the way they have done things in the past to affect _this_ family. Your family. Our family."

"Oh." Daisy was quiet for a moment, letting it all sink in. She had never thought about Elsie's family. Mother never talked about them.

 _Maybe she doesn't_ want _to talk about them._ "Where is Sybil's father? If you don't mind me asking," she twisted her fingers together.

"He has no part in her life. He never has. And I am glad of it." Daisy had never heard such a bitter edge in Mother's voice before. She felt sorry for her, and a little for Sybil. She knew Elsie would not say it if there was not a very good reason.

 _He must not be very nice._

 _Maybe he's cruel, too._

 _Her_ papa had always been loving. Daisy may have been young, but she knew not everyone was as fortunate as her and Thomas. _Anna isn't._

But equal to her sympathy, there was a hint of anger that Mother, or Papa, hadn't _told_ her about Sybil. And she felt something else that she couldn't explain.

"Sybil must be happy," she said, sounding a little sour herself, "She has a _real_ father now. Mine."

There was no mistaking her resentful tone.

"Daisy," Elsie put her hands on her shoulders. "Look at me. Your father loves you and Thomas dearly. You both are the reason he went on after your mother died. Yes, he's fond of Sybil, and she him. But _you_ are his daughter, his blood. He'll always have a place in the center of his heart for you."

Daisy's chin wobbled. She hated to sound like a child, but she couldn't help herself. "What about you? _You_ have a daughter."

"Yes," Elsie drew her into a hug. "I do. I had one daughter," she whispered in the girl's ear. "And now I have two." She let go of Daisy and met her eyes. "If you want me."

"I wish you would have told me about her before," Daisy brushed her eyes with the back of her hand. "It feels unfair, because Sybil knew about us, but we didn't know about her. Thomas doesn't know, does he?"

"He doesn't, but he will soon. Please don't tell him." Elsie hoped she had not begun anew with Thomas only to have everything fall apart with his sister. _We've always been close, since the day we met._

Daisy studied her for a long time, her eyes reflecting a candle from inside the house. "I won't," she said finally. "I guessed on my own. He might, too. Especially because he sees Sybil every day."

"True." Elsie hesitated, then spoke up. "I _am_ sorry for not telling you sooner. Your father and I had our reasons, believe me. We didn't mean to hurt you. And I asked Sybil to not say anything to you, either. No one here knows about her, except your father and the priestesses."

"All right," Daisy said. "I forgive you." Elsie let out a sigh of relief when she put her arm around her. "And all right," she half-grinned, "Of course I'll be your other daughter. But it still isn't fair," she declared. "Thomas is your only _son_." Her voice was dry. "No doubt he'll be your favorite."

"Which is what he's always wanted, naturally," Elsie shivered a little as a breeze blew over the hill. She was glad to hear Daisy chuckle.

Charles called to them from the doorway. "Are you both coming in? I'm finished with my prayers."

"Yes," Daisy answered. She hurried to her father and gave him a long hug, then scampered inside. Charles looked at Elsie.

"We'll talk after she goes to sleep," she said under her breath. "And before you go to watch the flock." He wound his arms around her.

"Talk? Or… _talk?_ " He gave her a devilish grin. She rolled her eyes.

"You know very well there'll be no… _talking_ , when the children are home," she kissed him on the lips. "Tonight, it's just plain speech. Tomorrow night…well, neither you nor I will be watching the flocks, if I have my way."

"I would be a very stupid man if I didn't let you have your way," he said. She shook her head, and they both went inside.


	39. Gifts

Daisy lay snoring in the corner. The other two in the room sat whispering, their hands clasped together.

"I should have known she'd guess about Sybil," Charles murmured. "She's always been very observant." He paused, rubbing his thumbs over Elsie's hands. "You don't think she knows about _you_ , do you? What you are?"

"No," Elsie replied. "Though if she were suspicious, I would be _very_ surprised if she asked me directly." Her lips were pressed in a thin line. "You guessed right after we married. But I had intended to tell you about myself anyway. _They_ – the children must never know. Knowing that Sybil is my daughter is another thing altogether."

Sighing, Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. "We need to decide what to do about Thomas."

Elsie nodded in agreement even though she knew he could barely see her in the darkness. "What do you think? Would it be easier for him to hear it from me, as her mother, or from you as his father? The two of you are closer than you used to be." She shook her head a little. "I doubt he'd take it well coming from _me_."

"No doubt he'll be angry with me for not telling him sooner," Charles whispered. "And he'll probably be angry with Sybil, too. He's seen her more than either of us since the spring."

"You're likely right." Elsie bit her lip, feeling at her wit's end. Whoever ended up telling Thomas about Sybil, she believed, would only be receiving the brunt of his ire. But she did feel responsible for telling him the truth. She stifled a yawn.

"Go to sleep," Charles said. "I have to go take over for Andrew. The poor boy's been out there almost all day."

"I could go watch the sheep, too. There aren't as many of them now."

"No," Charles was firm. "You drove the wagon from early this morning in the heat. I slept for a while, I'll be fine until Andrew wakes up and comes back at the third watch – or I'll pinch myself until dawn when Alfred gets here. It wouldn't be the first time." He leaned over and pulled her chin towards him. They kissed deeply, lingering, tasting each other.

"Kiss me like that again, and I'll forget about sleep," Elsie murmured, touching his face. He reluctantly got to his feet. She laid down on the sheepskin, torn between her desire to rest and her desire for her husband. Charles draped her cloak over her.

"Don't tempt me," he growled. She heard the warning in his voice. "You know you're irresistible when you want to be." Smirking, she pulled the cloak closer.

"What are we going to do about Thomas, though?"

"I don't know." Charles wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and headed to the door, trying not to trip on anything, but bashing his toe against the hearth despite his best efforts. He bit his tongue to keep from yelling and waking Daisy. "Tomorrow after we've both rested, maybe our heads will be clearer. Good night. I love you."

* * *

The two figures walked through the fog down the hill to the road. Charles was glad of the cold dew, damp on his feet. He needed _something_ to keep him awake.

At least Alfred had come early to watch the flock.

Daisy shuddered with a huge yawn, bags under her eyes. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry to wake you now," he apologized. "But I had to take you to Master Bill's when I left the flock, or else no one would be able to take you until long after sunrise."

Daisy doubted this was true. She had a feeling Andy would gladly wake up and skip breakfast if it meant escorting her to Downton. _She'd_ skip breakfast to have a walk with him. Her belly fluttered as though it had had an invasion of butterflies at the thought of Papa's apprentice.

Still, even in her sleep-addled mind, she knew better than to contradict her father. "Th-that's all right," she sighed. "I'm sorry I'm keeping _you_ from going to sleep sooner."

"I don't mind," he smiled. "You'll be busy at the weavers for days, and it's likely we won't see you until just before John and Anna's wedding."

She nodded. "That's what Mother said when she told me goodbye."

"Do you have her letter?" Charles asked. "I need to give it to Isobel or Violet, so they can send it with a rider." He doubted, as early as it was, that the boy who had been taking messages from Downton to the king's hall and back again all summer would be awake yet.

Daisy handed it to him. It was addressed to Sybil. "I was surprised to see her writing a letter so early, even before she'd gone out to milk the goats," she said. The image of Mother, next to a flickering candle, her face pale from sleep and writing furiously, was not one she had seen before. "I guess she wanted to send it as soon as possible."

"Yes," Charles tucked the scroll safely in his belt. They reached the road and continued on through the grey fog.

"She wanted to tell Sybil that I know about her," Daisy frowned. " _I_ could have written her myself."

"You still can. I'm sure she'd like to hear from you." Charles clutched the crook a little tighter. Despite Daisy's reassurances, he was still worried as to her reaction over her new-found knowledge of Sybil. It had to have been a shock. They walked in silence for a little while longer. The sound of the stream seemed loud in the quiet. It was still too dim to see much.

"Why didn't _you_ tell me?" Daisy looked up at him. "I know Mother said she asked Sybil not to say anything, but I don't see why _you_ didn't."

He could hear the hurt in her voice.

"I am sorry," he said low. "But I thought it was something she would tell you and Thomas herself. I didn't want to interfere. It was not my secret to tell."

It was not strictly true that he thought Elsie would tell them, though the rest was. But he knew he could never tell his children the full story.

He only hoped they would never have to ask any further questions.

"Mother said there were reasons for not telling us," Daisy bit her lip. "She…she was almost _angry_ when she told me about Sybil's father. Was he cruel, Papa? To her or Sybil? Is that why Mother didn't say anything? Because she doesn't like to think about him?"

Charles was impressed by how much she had thought about it in the span of one night. "No, she does not like to speak of him, or think of him," he said carefully. "He had a bad temper. _Has._ Elsie told me he never hurt her, but she could not live with his sudden rages. She left him before Sybil was born. He has never been a part of her life, as far as I know."

" _Never?_ " Daisy asked, astonished. _He must have been_ _terrible_ _!_ "So he's never seen his _own_ daughter?"

"That I don't know," Charles said quickly. The crossroads appeared before them. "You can ask Sybil, or Elsie, if you want. All I _do_ know," he frowned, wanting to defend his wife, "Is that Elsie did what was best for her child."

There were no stories that he knew of between Harmony and the God of War. Only that the latter was her father. He had never asked Elsie if Sybil had seen her father.

"I'm sure she did," Daisy rubbed her eyes. "I just – I can't imagine not knowing _you_ , Papa. Or Mum, even if I don't remember her well."

"Not everyone has loving parents," Charles slid an arm around her shoulders. "You know that."

"I know. I'm glad we do. Me and Thomas." Daisy waved at a farmer pulling a cart. Houses at the edge of Downton came into view through the fog. "We've got Mother now, too. And Sybil has you." She still wasn't sure how she felt about that. The young woman had always been kind – would it be fair to hold a grudge against her?

 _I'll write to her soon._

"I'll miss you," Charles said suddenly. "You'll be busy with Master Bill, and helping Phyllis make Anna's tunic, but still…"

"Aw, Papa," she gave him a squeeze. "It won't be _that_ long before I'll see you."

"I know, but I've seen you every day for the last moon." He hugged her. "Someday, the gods willing, you'll have children of your own, and you'll understand. I love my children – _all_ of you," he added, feeling both warmth and loss at the thought of Thomas, and now Sybil. "And I miss you all when you're away from home."

"Good thing John and Anna are getting married, then," she looked through the fog in the direction of the forge. "Before you go home, you should go thank him."

"I think I will."

* * *

In the sun near the entrance to the gates at the king's hall, Sybil leaned on a horse's post, reading her letter. Her brow was furrowed.

 _It does not surprise me that Daisy knows. But what about Thomas? He can be observant – when he wants to be._

She understood her mother's wish to tell him about her. And Charles's worry that Thomas would take out his outrage on whomever enlightened him. She could not imagine he would have any reaction _other_ than anger.

 _ **I**_ _should tell him myself. Spare Mother and Charles._

 _But how?_

"There you are," an unwelcome voice startled her out of her thoughts. Sarah strode over to her, her hands on her hips, glee evident in her voice. "My, _someone's_ being idle. How many times have you read that scroll since midday? Three times? Or four? What's wrong, you had a fancy man and he's decided to break it off?"

"It's none of your business," Sybil replied crisply, rolling up the letter. "Is Lady Mary calling for me?"

"No, and for your sake, you should be glad she isn't," Sarah said. "Is this how you plan on serving her after Anna's married? Neglecting her? Those dresses won't mend themselves-"

"Yes, thank you, Sarah," she couldn't keep the hint of irritation out of her voice. "I'm just going back upstairs. Is Anna still in the little room near Master George's room?"

Sarah nodded. "And slaving away, trying to get as much work done for Lady Mary before her wedding. She's no shirker, I'll give her that."

 _Oh, I see._ _ **Now**_ _you'll compliment her, when you know she's leaving!_

Sybil started across the courtyard.

"Wait! Have you seen Thomas?" Sarah called after her.

"Not since this morning," she turned a little, looking at the older woman.

"No doubt he's off somewhere private with Edward, the two of them alone…" Sarah trailed off, obviously hoping Sybil would respond. She did not take the bait.

"Wherever they are, whether alone or together, I'm sure they're busy on the king's behalf." She hurried inside and up the stairs before her tongue got the better of her.

 _That woman is one of the mortals that tests my patience to its limits._

* * *

A stocky woman with thick brown hair stood waiting at one end of the queen's chamber as Cora and Mary whispered to each other.

"I like the pieces, that isn't the problem," the queen said under her breath, her eyes taking in the jeweler's box open before them. "But are we _sure_ she made them herself? I would hate to buy something, only to find out later it was stolen-"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Really, Mama, not _every_ skilled craftsman is a man. I don't see why Laura could not have made these alone." She glanced across the room. "Her hands and arms look as strong as any blacksmith we know."

"That _is_ true," her mother sighed. Mary continued on.

"And besides, I haven't seen such fine quality since Uncle Harold brought us gifts from Carlisle…or more accurately, never," the king's daughter gazed into the box again, at one piece in particular. "She's asking more than a fair price. I'm willing to pay her extra for this. For the beauty of it alone, if not for Anna's sake. Anyone else would have asked for a sack of gold."

"Well. As long as you don't cheat her," Cora gave in. "I hope she hasn't been cheated in the past." She paused, her eyes drawn to the shining objects. "Maybe I _will_ buy something…"

Mary sat up straighter, and gestured for the woman to come closer. She came forward, and the noblewoman tried not to notice how dirty her feet were.

"Have you decided, milady?"

"I have," Mary smiled at her. The poor woman was certainly one of the homeliest she had ever met. It made it much easier to be nice to her. "This necklace here is just what I was looking for."

Laura crouched down and carefully removed the beautiful work. "I confess, it is one of my favorites. The design is one I've done many times, but not always with such skill."

"That's one of the reasons I love it," Mary said as Laura carefully wrapped the gold necklace in a small piece of cloth. "The design. The woven chain is tiny. Every blacksmith in the kingdom would love to know how you managed to make something so delicate! It looks like flowing water, or maybe dancing flames, to me."

A smile appeared on the woman's face. It did not soften her harsh features, or her heavy eyebrows (which merged together into one), but it did make mother and daughter feel more at ease. "I have my own methods, milady, which I prefer to keep to myself."

"I'm sure you do," laughed Cora. "The king's favorite blacksmith will wonder where it came from when he sees it. We'll just have to tell him it's a secret." She studied the rest of the pieces before her.

"Is he a man who will do anything for an advantage? Though I'm a smith myself, I know many of my peers are always looking for ways to expose each other's secrets," Laura said. Mary handed her a small box. "Ah, thank you milady. This is just the right size," she placed the little bundle into the multi-colored, patterned wooden box. "The necklace must be meant as a gift, then."

"It is," Mary folded her hands on her lap. "Indirectly, for the blacksmith." Her lips quirked a smile at the woman's confusion. "His bride-to-be is my maid. I wanted to get her a gift for her wedding day." She paused, something shifting in her brown eyes. "She's very dear to me."

"You couldn't find a lovelier one gift. It's near the best of what I've made, and the best I brought with me. Though I am biased, of course. So _that's_ why I heard you wanted to see a jeweler," Laura pursed her lips. "I suppose you could have asked the blacksmith to make something for your maid, but maybe he's already made something."

"He hasn't, and he isn't going to. He has a gold bracelet he's giving her. It once belonged to his mother," Mary smoothed out her skirt on the floor.

"That's very thoughtful of him. What's your maid's name?" Laura asked. Her dark eyes were soft.

"Anna. Her future husband fought alongside my father in the war. John is one of the most decent men you could ever meet, in this kingdom or any kingdom, for that matter. He would never try to steal another blacksmith's methods. He'd say it was dishonorable," Mary shook her head slightly, as if she thought the sentiment foolish. "He'd be more likely to try to hire you so he could learn yours."

"Then I won't resent him for being able to look at the necklace whenever he wants," Laura stood up again. "Though he's more likely to admire it when his wife wears it."

Behind them, someone knocked on the door and entered.

"Thomas, there you are," Cora said. The young man bowed. "Would you take this woman to get some food and something to drink? You must be hungry," she said to Laura.

"I am, Your Ladyship. I won't deny it."

"Then go with Thomas for a while. Eat as much as you like. When you come back, maybe by then I'll have made a decision as to what _I_ want to buy."

Laura grinned, showing a gap between her teeth. "Certainly. Thank you. Thank you as well, milady." She made a little curtsy to Mary.

"We'll have gold for you after you've eaten," the king's daughter told her. "And not to worry – we wouldn't dream of cheating you. Not when you've worked so hard."

Thomas held the door to let the woman pass through. It was really too bad she was so ugly, he thought. Her shoulders were nearly as broad as Edward's.

He led the way back down the stairs to the courtyard. A short time later, he emerged from the kitchen with steaming bread and fresh fish in a wooden bowl, and carrying a cup of wine.

"Here you are," he handed them to Laura. She took them, nodding her thanks. "When you're done, if you're still hungry, I'll fetch more. What her Ladyship says is a command."

He stood near her as she sat on the ground, eating. He was glad of a break. He, Edward, and a phalanx of guards and other servants had spent most of the day cutting trees and carrying them to the hall.

Several men cut the heavy wood into smaller pieces, forming them into posts for the stockade. Edward helped others set the new posts in the ground. Some of the men kept glancing at Laura and jeering.

"What did your mother do to offend the Divine Lady?" One yelled at her.

"There's a bull in the south field waiting for you," called another, to gales of laughter. "Or maybe you'd prefer the goat pen?"

The woman kept her head down as she ate, her shoulders slumping a little.

"Ignore them," Thomas murmured. "Don't listen to them."

"Leave her alone!" Edward bellowed at the snickering men, his face red from exertion and temper. "She's done nothing to you!" He stomped over to Laura and Thomas. "Are you all right, miss? They're idiots, most of them." He raked his hand through his hair.

"Woo, Edward," one of the guards sang in a high falsetto. "Have you finally found your lady? And here we thought you'd prefer the bull-"

Thomas's head snapped up, his eyes blazing, but his mate stopped him with a fierce look. He gritted his teeth instead.

"I'm fine, thank you," Laura looked up at the handsome lad, resignation on her face. "It's not the first time someone's made fun of me. I'm used to it."

"Still, it isn't right," Edward said. "You shouldn't have to be used to such foul insults." He gave Thomas a tight smile and walked back over to the others.

"That was more than enough food. Thank you," Laura said to Thomas. "We'd better go back up to her Ladyship, I don't want to keep them waiting too long."

The two headed back inside after Thomas had returned the empty bowl and cup to the kitchen. "It was kind of your friend to defend me," she said as they climbed the stairs. "And you were nice as well."

"Edward is kind to everyone he meets, no matter who they are," he replied. "As for me, I have other reasons. I usually do. I don't often do something without thinking of my own advantage."

As he said it, he wondered at himself. _That would have been true a short time ago._

 _But some things have changed._

"What are they?" Laura asked.

"Oh," he shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant, "you look like a strong lass to me. I bet you could break my arm if you wanted to. Or my leg."

The woman actually laughed, a low chuckle. Her eyes gleamed. "Maybe I could," she said as they approached the queen's room. "But neither you nor Edward gave me a reason to break any of your bones."

The queen made a selection of several pretty bracelets. There was a little bit of haggling over the price, but in the end, Laura acquiesced when Cora insisted on paying her more. Mary did the same.

"Don't even think of arguing with me," she told the young woman, one eyebrow raised. "This is what I will give to you, and that's the end of it."

Laura gaped at the heavy sack of gold coins resting on the floor. "That is _much_ more than the price I offered you, milady."

"And it is what the necklace is worth, no matter the price you offered," Mary's voice was final. "I don't doubt that you'll be careful with that sum of money. You might want to bury most of it, so as to have less to carry with you."

"No worries, milady," Laura picked up the sack. She stumbled a little under its weight. "This gold will not be stolen. Not from me."

She thanked them several times before leaving. Thomas helped her tie the bundle to a long staff when they got outside the gate, so as to make it easier for her to carry. "If you don't feel you deserve it, I understand," he said, tightening the knots, making sure the sack was secure. "Not long ago, I received gold for…well, I didn't think it was right to keep it for myself. So it was given to those who needed it more."

Laura stared at him. Her steady gaze made him uncomfortable. "You said you only do things if they give you an advantage," she said slowly. "I don't believe that's true." She stood up, the staff over her shoulder. " _You_ don't believe it, either."

"Maybe I don't," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She sighed. "Gold doesn't matter much to me. At least coins don't. To me, the joy is in making something beautiful." She shook Thomas's hand, the calluses on her own scraping across his palm. "Thanks for the help, and for being nice to me." She grinned at the sound of the jingling coins. "I think I'll do what you did. Give this away to those who need it more than I do."

He watched her as she walked down the hill and across the bridge, one arm holding the staff on her shoulder, the other swinging as she walked. She whistled crossing the river.

North of the king's hall, a boy gasped in wonder when instead of pulling a fish from the stream, he found a gold coin on his string. In another village, in Shackleton, a sandal-maker and his wife laughed in amazement when their dog showed them another hole she had dug, and inside was gold instead of a bone.

One woman bought medicine for her granddaughter. Another cried for joy when she opened her door and found her son standing there. Where he had gotten the gold to sail home, he said, he couldn't explain. It was just at his feet when he woke one morning, sleeping near the docks of a faraway city.

Far south in Merton, a tall girl wearily walked the fields with her younger brothers and sisters, all nine of them. The harvest was sure to be good this autumn, but what about the next? She knew Mama and all of them would work as hard as they could – but Papa's drunkenness and gambling had cost them all the coins they had, and the men he owed never forgave debts. For any reason.

She was not sorry Papa had left. Sailed far away, and abandoned his family.

 _One less mouth to feed._

The girl's mother squinted at the tunic in her weathered hands, hunched next to the dim fire in the hearth. She swallowed a lump in her throat. Worry solved nothing. The last thing she wanted was to worry herself into an early grave.

She would work herself to the bone, if only to make sure her children had enough to eat.

She dropped her sewing on the floor when she heard her children shouting for her as they ran to the house. She sagged against the doorway, her knees failing her, when they presented her with a sack half full of gold. They all danced outside, hugging, crying, and hardly believing their good fortune.

A woman stood in the semi-darkness beneath a tree, smiling at their happiness. She fingered her thick braid that hung over one of her formidable shoulders. The door burst open as the family came into the house, elated. One of the boys did a double-take looking outside through the window. He was _sure_ he saw a woman disappear into thin air. He blinked, then shrugged, seeing nothing. Mama always told him he had a wild imagination.

The gold glimmering in the light of the merry, snapping, crackling fire _was_ real.

* * *

Charles got up from his knees. He gazed at the candles, at the bright flames that were so tiny, yet spread light everywhere. He blew one out, then the other.

The room was plunged into darkness.

He sighed. It was getting darker earlier with every day that passed.

The sound of the door squeaking shut was loud. A very familiar pair of hands massaged his back, then edged their way around his broad torso to stop on his chest.

"Who's there?" he rumbled softly.

"Your wife, who loves you." He felt Elsie go past, the air stirring slightly as she moved around him. He could feel the heat of her body pressed against him. She ran her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing his head down.

His mouth on hers, his _hands_ holding her to him, his continual caresses driving her higher, the breathless agony of tangible desire combined with the thrill of knowing their longing for each other would soon be satisfied – would she ever tire of it?

 _Never._

When they first met in the spring, the feeling of her heart not being her own had frightened her. Now she reveled in it.

With him, she was whole.

She was _free_.

Oh, she could exist without him. She would continue on forever, regardless of where he was.

But with him, she was more than she ever was. Even in mortal form, her power flowed more intensely than she had ever felt it before. It had been that way since Midsummer, when they joined hands and promised themselves to each other.

Their clothing cast aside, she pressed harder on his lower back, her hands finding his hips. He grunted, letting out a gasp. Moving, still teasing, tormenting each other, wanting to draw out their bliss to its furthest point, before finally giving in.

"I-I _need_ you," he moaned, his body shaking.

She cried out. "Me too," she rasped, near tears. "Husband, mate, lover, friend, _please_."

As she keened beneath him, a wild song to the night, he wished that he could see her. Every other sense was alive to him – hearing, tasting, smelling, touching her. But to _see_ her, see her face while she sang in ecstasy, the curve of her perfect body melded to his, watch as they joined-

He roared at the thought.

Lunging forward, he lost himself in her.

Her euphoria was complete when she heard and felt him let go. She laughed and keened at the same time, wondering what it would feel like to experience such bliss in divine form.

Her back arched, and it took all her strength to contain herself.

Charles, thankfully, did not seem to feel anything differently. She rode the waves of their pleasure until they rippled ever smaller and disappeared. Kissing him full on the mouth, she gently laid his head on her chest as he gulped for breath. Her own heart was pounding.

Fear gnawed at her.

 _I cannot, ever, be_ fully _free with him._

It surprised her that it had taken so long to realize it.

 _I think I always knew._

Tears formed in her eyes, and she sniffed, keeping them at bay. She felt grieved, and not for herself but for him.

 _I cannot give him what I want. Pleasure is MY gift to give, and I cannot give it to him fully, or else I would destroy him!_

He separated them, then pulled her closer again, still facing each other. Elsie was quiet, only grazed her fingers through the hair on his chest.

"I wish I could see you," he murmured.

"Hmmm?" she asked, one hand on his face.

"I…wish I could see you," he repeated. Guilt whispered in his ear. "Like this. I know I ask for too much – my wife, my beautiful lover, goddess divine, wanting me. Isn't that enough?" He shook his head, rubbing her back. "I-I would love to see you in the dim light of the candles, in the dancing shadows of a roaring fire. I know I can't," he whispered, ashamed. She said nothing, and he felt worse. "I'm sorry. Here I have the audacity to pray, and have my prayers answered, and _still_ I want more-"

"Stop, Charles," she put her fingers on his mouth. "You have _nothing_ to be ashamed of. You want nothing more than to be like other men, to make love to your wife as darkness falls, as autumn marches on, as the days get colder. To see how her skin reflects the firelight, how her lips darken to a deep red after you've kissed her past the second watch of the night. To see the marks you've given your lover, and to see the ones she's given you as they appear on your body and hers, and not the faded ones in the early morning light."

He was stunned, though he knew he should hardly be surprised that she would know so precisely what he wanted. "Yes."

"If it was my choice," she wrapped her arms around him, "I would not only say yes to your prayers when you pray that you please your wife – which the goddess _does_ grant, I'll have you know – but I would say yes to _all_ your prayers. But it doesn't work that way. Not for anyone, and not for you. I'm sorry."

Her voice sounded strange. "What's wrong?" he asked.

There was a very long pause.

"I cannot please _you_ ," she whispered. "Not truly. You are one of the most unselfish men who ever lived – you hardly ask for anything for yourself. I cannot give you even the smallest pleasure of you seeing me in the light of the oil lamp, for fear it will bring fire down on us. But more than that," she swallowed, "I cannot fully, completely, give myself to you."

She could hear him breathing, but he said nothing.

"I would kill you," she whispered.

He let her words settle inside him. Thinking, drinking them in. Pondering their meaning. He pulled her ever closer, her face pressed to his chest, her head under his chin.

"Because you are a goddess," he said finally.

"Because I am _the_ Goddess. Eala, Immortal, Divine," she murmured. Her lips tickled his skin, and the absurdity of that against the seriousness of the moment almost made him laugh. "The Goddess of Love, Pleasure, and Fertility."

"What do you mean?" He asked slowly. "About the prayers? Do you mean us having a child? I haven't prayed for that for a long time."

"That is one, yes," she said heavily. "But me pleasing you is something I thought I _could_ do-"

That did make him dissolve into laughter. "Do you think you _don't?_ " Of everything he had ever heard, he was sure that was not true. _How can she even think that!?_ "Elsie, you please me more than anyone ever could, more than any man ever has a right to feel!"

"No," she protested, her hand braced against his heart. "No, I don't."

He heard her snuffle, and knew she was fighting back tears.

"I don't understand."

 _Help me to understand._

"I cannot fully please you as I am now," her voice quavered. "I have given you all of myself that is present here, but I am not fully _myself_ here. As a woman, as a lover, I have given you everything. But because I am Eala, as the Goddess, I _cannot_. I will not."

"If you're worried about you being the end of me," he said, trying to keep things light, "I'm not. I can't think of a better way to go-"

"Stop, stop, STOP!" She cried. She swiped at his chest, like she meant to hit him, but she barely bumped her fingers against his collarbone. "I could _never_ do that to you! What, killing you for a moment of pure bliss? What do you think I am!? I love you," her voice broke.

Something stirred to life in his mind. _You infernal IDIOT. How could you say something like that to her?_

She cried, her tears wetting his skin. "It hurts that I can't say yes to all your prayers. To please you like _I_ know I could," she whispered, her voice raw. "Because I am your _wife._ It's impossible to keep my vows to you, to love you like I love myself, to treasure your heart, to bring you joy in our bed. And I want you to have _everything_ I can give you."

The words hit him like a boulder falling from a cliff.

"I can't, and won't, give you Pleasure, not totally, because it would destroy you. I can't – _won't_ give you the gift of a child-"

"Which I know, and I bear you no grudge about it," he kissed the top of her head, hoping to calm her. He was only beginning to understand her heartbreak.

 _What would it be like to have the ability to grant her every desire, and to be forbidden from doing so?_

"All I can and will do," she mumbled, "is to love you completely."

Tears pooled in his eyes. He let them go, and tasted the salt of them on his lips. "You always have, and you always will. Do you not remember," he said once he could speak, "asking me if I thought _my_ love for you would be enough? And now you ask me the same?" He shifted up at little, so to trace her cheek. "Your love for me…is overwhelming. I can't begin to describe what it feels like. Which is just as well, because I know I'd scupper it."

She hiccupped, and he smiled a little, feeling some of the tension ebb.

"You've always seen me," Elsie said quietly. "You know what is here now, both seen and unseen. The goddess, the lover, the friend, the woman. The wife," she rubbed her thumb against the bottom of his chin. "Only having a part of me will have to be enough."

He leaned forward until his head brushed hers. "It is. I would rather have part of you than all of anyone else. And I would say that even if you weren't the Goddess." He hugged her close. "We can make love in the daylight. Fire is given too much importance to mortals. Autumn is not _that_ cold."

She laughed a little. "Flatterer."

He touched his nose to hers. "Wife."

"Husband," she said low, very demure.

As he drifted to sleep, she knew a part of her had been exposed that had never been before. He drew out so many _sides_ to her.

If she could see herself as she had been before taking mortal form, would she even recognize herself?

Would _he_?

But then, Charles would never have to see her revealed.

If all went well.

* * *

 **A/N: Ugh. The conversation they have is one that needed to happen, and one that I kind of/sort of knew where it should go, roughly, but never set aside "this is the point". Then I wrote this chapter, and…well. I didn't know it was going to go full angst. (Since we're in the mode of full versus partial here.)**

 **This chapter kind of bounced everywhere, and I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean to give anyone whiplash. This is definitely a transition point of the story, or at least the beginning of a transition, and it's rather muddy, which is my fault. The NEXT transition will most certainly be clear.**

 **It wasn't until I finished this chapter that I realized how much stuff from previous chapters led up to this one. And how much foreshadowing is in this one. Like flip-on-the-old-Technicolor-lights-holy-cow-those-are-some-seeeerious-shadows foreshadowing. And not all of it was intended. So you might want to bookmark this chapter for later.**

 **The dilemma about Thomas (poor guy, this one isn't** _ **really**_ **his fault, he's just the last to know) will get resolved in the next chapter.**

 **Coming up, because I want to comfort people, and reassure them I actually** _ **don't**_ **thrive on people's anxiety: Happiness. Laughter (hopefully yours). Canon lines quoted verbatim, used in different contexts.**

 **If you have time, please leave a review. I thrive on feedback.**

 **I love you all. *giving group hugs***


	40. Startling News

**A/N: Forty chapters in. I can't thank you all enough for sticking with this story. Real life and other projects are keeping me from updating as often as I'd like, so major, major thanks for your patience.**

 **Batwings79 made an excellent comment about the last chapter and Laura. I've cleared it up here, hopefully. I never wanted to confuse anyone. A woman in disguise is mentioned (though not seen) way back at the end of chapter sixteen. I should know better than to assume you all remember tiny details - I don't expect that of myself. I'm constantly going back and making sure I'm not forgetting little things.**

 **Also, thanks to the guest reviewer who made me laugh. Yes, you CAN buy a lot of sheep for $200. I'm glad you're spending your money wisely! And thank you for the comment about Victor – there's a nod to it in this chapter.**

 **No Chelsie here, but a very necessary conversation. Please review if you have time. I really do appreciate each and every one!**

* * *

Anna stifled a yawn, setting aside Lady Mary's skirt. "That one's done, then," she said. She folded it and set it on the finished pile next to her. "I'll start working on her cloak again – unless you need help?"

Sybil shook her head, intently staring at the hem of the tunic on her lap. "No, thank you. I think I've got it now."

Moving over to sit by Sybil, Anna nodded in approval at her work. "That's quite good," she complimented her friend. "The pattern below her waist is difficult. Well done!"

"Thank you! You're a good teacher," Sybil smiled at her. "It won't be the same without you at court."

"Oh, don't remind me," Anna knelt on the floor to move aside several scraps of cloth. "Marrying John is what I want most in the world, but it _will_ be strange to not see everyone."

"Especially Lady Mary," Sybil made sure to concentrate on the hem. The room was quiet, except for a small sniff. She dared to look up again.

"I'm being ridiculous," Anna wiped the corner of her eye, grinning. "She's the king's eldest daughter, and I'm just-"

"Her best friend," Sybil reached out and patted her hand. "There's nothing wrong with being sad about leaving. You'll miss her, and she will miss you. Very much." Anna composed herself.

"I feel better knowing you'll be looking after her. And Edward, and others. Whether she knows it or not, she has people who care about her, not just her parents and Master George."

Sybil pursed her lips in a wry grin. "And whether she deserves it or not – which she does. _Most_ of the time." Her eyes twinkled as Anna opened her mouth in defense of Lady Mary. Sybil knew how difficult the king's daughter could be at times, but also how fiercely loyal she was to Anna, which was to her credit.

"Do any of us deserve to have good people around us?" Anna hugged her knees. Wisps of hair escaped from the braided bun at the back of her head. "Somehow the gods decided that Sarah, sour as _she_ is, would have a perfectly decent nephew."

"Now, now," Sybil scolded playfully, finishing the last stitch. "Here, could you set it on the pile?"

As Anna placed the tunic with the rest of the clothes, Sybil got up to stretch. Her knees cracked. Anna winced.

"I was going to run downstairs to get some fresh bread from the kitchens, but maybe you should go. You haven't moved for hours!"

Showing her dimples, Sybil put her hands on her hips, moving from side to side, feeling her muscles ache. "I'll be right back."

She was halfway down the stairs when the unmistakable scent of sulfur reached her nose.

It was barely a whiff, a breath of air, but it stopped her instantly. Her eyes widened. She turned and raced back up the way she came, following the scent to the queen's room.

 _Impossible._

 _Impossible._

 _How could_ _ **he**_ _be here!?_

The door was open, and no guard stood there, so she knew neither Cora nor any member of the family was inside. Thomas crouched near the small fireplace in one corner jabbing at the hot coals, and Edward wafted the smoke from the fire out the window with one of the fans the servants often used outside.

"It's no use, I can't smell anything odd," Edward said as Sybil came in. "It smells fine in here." He looked up at the young woman. "Did someone call for us? Her Ladyship and Lady Mary told us to air out the room. Something about a bad smell."

"No one sent me. I smelled it on the stairs," Sybil said, her heart racing, her eyes raking over the room. Nothing was out of place. "Sulfur. It wasn't very strong, but it doesn't have to be to make it unpleasant."

"Usually we'd notice a smell like that, but we've been sawing logs and setting posts all day," Edward's hair was wavier than usual, with bits of sawdust visible in it. "I can't smell anything other than wood and sawdust."

"And sweaty men," Thomas gave him a grin. "You don't mind _them_ so much."

"As a matter of fact, I prefer _my_ man clean-"

Sybil rolled her eyes at their open flirtation, and huffed a little impatiently through her nose. "Right, sweaty men aside, did _you_ smell it, Thomas?"

"Smell what?" The dark-haired youth held a heavy stone poker in his hand. "The sulfur?" He sniffed a couple of times. "A little, maybe, but I think it's mostly gone now."

"What could have caused it, do you think?" Sybil asked, tracing her foot on the floor. She had a feeling she knew perfectly well what the cause was, but she had to ask.

Every hair on the back of her neck was standing up.

Thomas and Edward exchanged glances. "I think it was Laura," Thomas said. "I'm not sure. But I stood next to her for a while, and didn't smell sulfur. Then again," he grinned at his mate, "it's been sawdust and sweat most of the day for me, too. I _did_ notice it in here when her Ladyship sent for me again. That was after she left."

"Laura?" Sybil crinkled her brow. "Who is Laura?"

Edward handed her the fan. "A blacksmith who visited the queen and Lady Mary earlier."

"Lady Mary bought a beautiful necklace from her, for Anna," Thomas said, scraping the coals together. "Don't tell her. It's meant to be a surprise."

 _A blacksmith. A woman._

 _She could be a mortal._

 _You know she's not, you_ _ **know**_ _that scent._

 _He's disguised himself as a woman before, too._

"Anna won't hear it from me," Sybil tapped her hip, trying to figure out how to ask about the mysterious woman without making the other two suspicious. "Is this Laura from Downton? If she is, she could give John competition."

"I don't know," Thomas said. "I never asked her where she was from. I think _I_ would remember if I saw a woman who looked like that. She looked nothing like you, Sybil."

"What do you mean?" she asked, feigning ignorance. She puffed out her cheeks in apparent nonchalance but actually held her breath.

Edward walked past her towards the door. "Eala's blessed you with the gift of beauty. Laura…has been given other gifts. Ones that not everyone appreciates," he frowned. "I have to go," he said to Thomas. "We're nearly done setting the posts. I'll tell Roland the queen gave you another task." He left the two of them in the room.

"They were yelling horrible things at her," Thomas swept up ash near the hearth. "The guards. Poor woman, it's not _her_ fault her eyebrows looked like an overgrown bush and her braid resembled a horse's tail. Broad shoulders and hands to rival a man's. I've made fun of not-so-pretty girls before, I won't deny it, but…she just _sat_ there. She said she'd been made fun of before." He got to his feet and looked out the window as Sybil slowly swung the fan to waft the smoke outside. "Go ahead, laugh at me for being a softy. I guess Edward's rubbing off on me."

Sybil's expression never changed. But her heart plunged through the floor.

 _Here._

 _Victor is_ _ **here**_ _. At the king's hall. Or at least, he was._

 _Disguised as a woman._

 _He cares nothing for his own appearance, no matter which disguise he wears._

She knew it as certainly as she knew anything. This was no scent from a forge's fire, sulfurous spring, or rotten eggs.

 _Is he working somewhere nearby? If he is, than he's here to keep an eye on Mother. But why? Does he suspect her? She said all seemed well when she visited his temple in Loftus._

 _He was quite keen to suppress his own scent today. Maybe to make it more likely he would be permitted to see the queen? Or because he knows_ I'm _here as well?_

The former seemed likely, but the latter frightened her.

 _I must tell Tom. And Mother._

Blinking, she forced herself to concentrate on Thomas. "Why would I laugh at you? There are much worse people to take after than Edward!"

He laughed, his eyes lighting up. "That's true." He banked the fire, putting it out. Then they both swept the rest of the room together. Thomas took Sybil's broom when she finished her side.

"I'll take this, if you want to go back and join Anna," he said. "Lady Mary should be back soon. She was walking with Master George. I'm starving," he rubbed his belly as it rumbled. "I haven't had a thing since this morning. I'm going to see if I can beg Cook for some fresh bread. Do you want some?"

"That was where I was headed before I smelled the sulfur," she admitted. "Anna's probably thinking I started chatting with the kitchen maids, or was sent to do something else by now."

"Well, go on and tell her you were helping me," he said, pulling the door open. "I'll bring you both bread, if you like."

"Before you go," she bit her lip, "I need to tell you something." She fingered the scroll tucked into her belt. She did not want to miss an opportunity to talk with him alone. They did not often get many serving at court.

 _He'll be angry._

 _I don't want to hurt him, but everyone else in the family knows._

 _But maybe he'll hold his temper if we're in here. He knows better than to cause a scene._

"What is it?" Thomas asked, frowning. He set the brooms against the wall.

Sybil let out a long breath. "I received a letter this morning. From-from Elsie." Her voice and heart stuttered together. "You see, your sister figured out something, and both your father and Elsie want you to know as well. Elsie…is my mother. I'm her daughter."

Thomas stared at her, stunned, his mouth hanging open.

It was plain Sybil was telling the truth.

He had never known her to lie.

 _By the GODS._

For the first time, he took in her features, the shape of her eyes. The way she stood, even the way she held her hands together.

 _How did I never see it?_

He looked away from her out the open door, as he tried to gather his thoughts.

 _Her…daughter._

 _Her_ _daughter._

 _HER._

 _I_ _ **knew**_ _she was hiding something!_

His face turned red and he clenched his fists.

 _So Daisy guessed. When? Before we left to go to Staithes? How long has_ she _known?_

 _Of course Father knew._

It hurt to think he would keep something like that from his own _son_. He blinked, feeling a lump in his throat.

 _Just when I thought things were getting better._

 _Everyone knowing except ME!_

"It is bad enough," he croaked, "that _everyone else_ in my family knew. I should have known better," he shook his head. "I always _knew_ something was off about Elsie! No doubt she convinced my father to keep her secret – he'd do anything for her! And my own sister!" His voice rose. "I can't trust her to tell me anything, either! I can't trust _any_ of them! Why should I be open with them if _no one_ tells me anything!?"

"Thomas," Sybil tried to calm him, "No one wanted to hurt you. Mother's very protective of me, she asked me to keep it quiet, and your father was just respecting her wishes. And Daisy only just figured it out when you all came back from Staithes, don't blame her-"

He heard her, but was in no mood to curb his anger. Even though he did lower his voice. It would do no good for one of the family or other servants to overhear him shouting.

"And _you_ ," he rounded on her, feeling a fresh surge of hurt, "I thought _you_ were my friend, but you couldn't tell me something as important as that!?" He threw his hands in the air and rested them on the top of his head, spinning around to turn his back on her.

The moment he got back to his room that night, he decided, he was going to take the bag of shells he'd collected on the beach to give to Elsie, and throw them in the river.

 _Where they belong._

He was glad he had not gotten Sybil a gift. Now that he knew _she_ was just like the others. Keeping secrets, never trusting him…

"I am sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Sybil said calmly. "But there were reasons, many, why I didn't, and why Mother didn't."

" _Why_?" he asked, his voice harsh. "What reasons could you all have to keep something like this from me and Daisy?"

 _At least he's not angry with his sister. Now for the rest of us…_

"For one, when I first came to the king's court, I did not know we would be coming to Downton this summer," she said. "Second, I saw no need to mention it when we _did_ travel here from the palace. Mother had just started watching the flocks. How was I to know she'd fall in love with your father? _I_ never saw that coming, either."

He said nothing, so she kept going.

"But the most important reason," she explained as best she could, "why both I and my mother kept it quiet is because my father would not be pleased to know that we have a family now, one that does not include him."

In reality, she knew her father devoted most of his time to violence and war, or stirring up both. He would likely not care who Mother was with.

And she was well aware he cared nothing for her, even though she was his natural daughter. _The God of War has nothing to do with the Goddess of Peace._

 _He has never been a father to me._

The first reasons she gave Thomas he had to accept, albeit grudgingly. But the last one piqued his anger again. It reminded him of something she had told him earlier in the summer.

"He sounds jealous," he turned, glaring at her, "Your father. You told me and Edward he's violent. Someone with a quick temper. Is that it?"

"Yes," she met his eyes.

"So I was right about Elsie," he scoffed, "She marries _my_ father, knowing she has a crazy former husband out there. Not caring if he might one day come after _him_ , or me and Daisy-"

"That won't ever happen," she interrupted. _Never mind my parents are divine, and were never married._ "But like I told you, Mother's very protective. _Over_ protective, sometimes."

"Maybe so," he snapped. He tried not to think about who else that sounded like. "If she thinks he's dangerous, though, wouldn't it have been better to have _thought_ about that before marrying Father?"

"She did. I wouldn't say she or I think he's dangerous. Just that she does not underestimate him."

Victor, on the other hand, was the actual threat, rather than her father. She knew Thomas and Daisy would never be told about her mother's fiancé – that was much too complicated to explain. The God of Fire was a much more immediate danger than her father, the one who was in mortal form, in disguise…

 _They will never know about Tom, either._

That made her heart ache.

"You had every chance to tell me the truth before now," he said, quieter. "Why should I believe anything you say, or what my father or Elsie says, when you keep something like this from me?"

He was deeply hurt, and she felt it. "I understand why you'll find it hard to trust me after this. And our parents," her voice was gentle. "All I can say is that none of us kept it from you and Daisy out of spite. Maybe you both _should_ have been told sooner. But we can't change what's happened. Be angry with _me_ all you like," she took a step towards him. "But please try not to take it out on Mother, not when you're finally friends. Or your father. _Please._ "

He wanted to stay angry. Defy her, and give both Father and Elsie a tongue-lashing that would strip bark from trees. But it was her calmness, her willingness to bear the brunt of his fury that shamed him. He dropped his eyes to the floor.

"I won't promise that I'll say nothing when I-we're home," he felt all the awkwardness of including her, when only a short time before, she had no connection to his family that he knew of. "But I'll try to hold my temper. I don't want to spoil Anna's wedding. _She_ doesn't deserve that, not after everything she's been through."

Maybe Father and Elsie deserved his wrath. But he had been angry with one or both of them for so long, and had finally had some peace, that he found he had little heart to renew fighting with them.

Or if he even wanted to.

 _It would not change anything, like she said. What's done is done._

"Thank you, Thomas," Sybil reached out and squeezed his wrist. Relief flooded through her when he did not pull away.

"Just to be clear," he looked into her bright blue eyes, a half smile on his lips, "is there anything _else_ I need to know, that I don't know already? No other brothers or sisters hiding in plain sight?"

A little laugh bubbled out of her mouth. "No. There's just me." She felt no guilt about him never knowing her and her mother's true identities. _'Need to know'…there is no need. It's for his own protection._

"You and Daisy must be thrilled," he said dryly, "To be sisters."

"I _am_ delighted," her eyes gleamed, "but Daisy was apparently rather shocked when Mother told her about me. She was not exactly dancing with happiness. Daisy is not as different from you as you may think," she raised an eyebrow, "Mother wrote that she was…a little jealous."

" _Jealous?_ Daisy?" His sister, he had learned, was many things, but jealousy was not a quality he had ever seen in her.

"If I had to guess, I would say she's worried about sharing her papa," Sybil's face grew serious. "I want _you_ to know, I will never come between you and your father-"

To her surprise, he laughed. "There are plenty of walls between him and me. You could hardly do more to separate us than we already have." _Though that is changing, too._

"I hope you will grow closer to him, for your own sake," she said.

He rolled his eyes with more vigor than was necessary. "Wonderful," he grumbled in an exaggerated tone. "Now I have _two_ sisters nagging me!"

He felt a twinge in his heart when he said it. A memory, long buried, of asking his own mother after Daisy was born, if he could have _another_ brother or sister, and the pain on her face when he asked.

 _I always thought it would be just me and Daisy._

 _Now there's three of us._

There was an awkward silence for a moment, then Sybil beamed at him. "That's right," she playfully slapped his arm, "You do. Get used to it, brother dear."

"You'd better get used to having a brother," he fired back, raising an eyebrow. "Any young man who gets too friendly with you will have _me_ to deal with."

It occurred to him that he and Sybil had already been acting like siblings since they met, even before either of them knew their parents had met each other. Looking after each other, working together.

 _Almost like…it was meant to be._

She threw back her head, laughing. "Oh, I can take care of myself. But I don't mind if you chase the rude ones off."

"And there'll be plenty of those," he said. "Maybe less around here, once people know you're my sister. I can be _very_ intimidating," he joked.

"Yes, very," she grinned at him, chuckling. "Do you know you look like your father when you wag your eyebrows like that?"

Thomas shook his head. "We both know _that's_ not true! His eyebrows are legendary!"

They stood laughing, Sybil giggling with her hand over her mouth and Thomas's hand on her shoulder, when Mary and George appeared in the doorway. Immediately, Thomas and Sybil stopped laughing and stepped further apart.

"Milady," Thomas said, "We just finished airing out the room. I'll go back and help Roland-"

"THOMAS!" shouted the little boy, letting go of his mother's hand and dashing over to him. "Wide! Want a _wide_!"

Thomas pressed his lips together so as not to laugh at Master George's inability to pronounce the letter _r._ "All right, maybe just one," he said, lifting the boy onto his shoulders when Mary nodded her approval. He went into a trot around the far edges of the room.

Mary's own eyebrows were raised. "I think he rather likes you." Sybil knew she meant Thomas.

"We get on well. He's quite nice, once he opens up," she agreed.

"Be careful that you don't read too much into it," Mary turned to her, her dark eyes bright. "His…likes tend in another direction." She was fond of the innocent young woman, and did not like the thought of her being hurt.

Sybil smothered a smile. _She thinks I don't know about him and Edward…and she thinks I_ like _him like…well, she's trying to be kind._ "I understand. Thank you, milady."

They watched George laugh as Thomas carried him around the room. They came to a stop in front of the women.

"More!" George yanked Thomas's hair. He winced, but said nothing.

Mary smiled, her features softening with love for her son. "That's enough for now, darling. Granny will be here soon to eat with us." Her eyes shifted from George to Thomas, then to Sybil. "I'm glad the two of you are here. I need your help." She pulled a small scroll from her own belt. "I received a letter from your stepmother just now," she opened it, nodding in Thomas's direction. "From the shepherdess. Elsie."

He and Sybil exchanged astonished glances, both thinking the same thing. _Did she tell Lady Mary?_

The king's daughter looked amused. "Don't be so alarmed. There's nothing wrong – well, there actually is, but that's why I need your help. It's about Anna."


	41. The Plan

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your support of this story!**

 **Real life has kicked me hard over the last couple of weeks, and my muse has been smothered, even though most of this story has been planned. I will try to update more regularly after this, but if real life intrudes too much, I'll let you all know. (How annoying that real life take over my brain – doesn't it know I thrive on these stories!? :))**

 **Something to remember during the conversation during the chapter – Elsie, and everyone with her, is unaware of Victor's motives, movements, and his mind. They can only guess at what he's been up to, and what he intends. It's also important to remember that though Charles has seen Victor in disguise, he wasn't aware of the fact, nor did he tell Elsie about John's former partner "Joe". There was not anything unusual about that – Charles simply found other things, uh, more important to focus on since their marriage. As you all know…**

 **So in regards to Victor/whichever disguise he chooses, dear readers, you know more than THEY do. Enjoy your superior knowledge over the mortals and the gods. I hope life is treating you well.**

 **Please review if you have time – thank you!**

* * *

Late afternoon sun poured through the windows onto the floor of Eala's temple. Violet and Isobel stood near the wooden bench, by the archway that led out to the garden.

Elsie, seated on the bench, folded her hands and fought not to smile. She knew it was simply the strangeness of the moment that had discomfited the priestesses. Both of the women were uncharacteristically tense.

Isobel's eyes darted from Elsie to the other figure standing before the altar, and back again. Even the formidable Violet was uneasy, though she hid it well. She stood a bit more rigidly than normal. Only her piercing gaze gave away her true feelings.

Elsie could hardly blame the women. They were used to seeing her by now, and had met Sybil twice.

But Beryl…well, her oldest friend was _different._

The sunlight caught individual strands of Beryl's fiery hair as she turned in a circle, surveying the temple. She smiled warmly, lingering on the mural of her own family with Eala.

"Well," she said, her hands on her hips, "Whoever painted us did a fine job. Especially my good-looking son. This whole place is a fine tribute to you, Elsie, though it's a bit too _clean_ for my taste."

Isobel and Violet glanced at each other, but said nothing. Beryl went on, her tone more fitting for a raucous feast than a holy place.

"I prefer a freshly plowed field, with the smell of earth and leaves in the autumn air," she said, her voice carrying in the large room. "Though of course the scene wouldn't be complete without muscles and sweaty limbs of the male persuasion-"

Clearly her throat loudly, Elsie raised an eyebrow.

Beryl rolled her eyes. "Oh no, the shepherd _has_ ruined you," she teased, a sly grin covering her face. "No more bawdy talk from the proper wife over there! She used to be much more fun," She turned to the priestesses. "The most _outrageous_ stories, all about the gorgeous lovers – they were all about _her_ , or, if not, she was the one telling them! Now I suppose you don't want anyone to tell their own stories, out of jealousy!"

"That is ridiculous, and you know it," Elsie laughed, leaning against the wall. "I don't mind your stories, or anyone else's, and jealousy has nothing to do with it. But we are in _my_ temple, and I would like to keep a certain respect in here, thank you!"

"Thank _you_ ," murmured Violet, glancing at the Goddess of Love. She got an answering nod in return.

Beryl, her husband Albert and their son William had arrived in Downton the day before. Beryl did not want to miss the upcoming Harvest Festival, and wished to see her friend again. They were all delighted to hear of the wedding between John and Anna.

The king and his family would all be attending. Affection for both the bride and groom was strong in the village, and due to Robert's generosity, most of Downton would be there as well. Neither Anna nor John minded three additional guests. Elsie strongly suspected they would notice anyone other than each other on their wedding day.

 _As it should be._

"I love weddings," Albert had confided to Charles the previous evening. "My wife and I met at one, and we've been fond of them ever since."

Charles accepted his role as host to Elsie's visiting friends with ease. He had had a more difficult time reconciling the fact of their divinity, remembering his meeting with them at Midsummer.

"What must they _think_ of me!?" He had groaned to Elsie after the three had gone to Elsie's old hut to rest for the night. "I must have come across as such a fool to them earlier in the summer, a stupid man talking to the gods-"

"Hush," his wife had softened him, kissing him on the cheek. "They like you. It hardly matters if you are a man or another god to them." She had grinned, the light of the stars reflected in her eyes. "Yes, you are a man. But you are _my_ man, and that makes all the difference."

The next day was very busy. The king and his family arrived in the village from the hall, to stay for both the wedding and then the Festival afterwards. Charles and his family had little to do with preparing for them, but all of his family were hard at work either with helping John finish his house, or for the surprise planned for Anna.

Elsie, Beryl, Sybil had been working all morning in the temple garden, along with the priestesses. After a hurried meal, Sybil disappeared to Phyllis's house. The wheelwright's wife was finishing Anna's tunic, and the bride was visiting her, both to wear it and to see how it matched her blue shawl.

Anna believed Lady Mary was visiting her grandmother Martha. In reality, after dismissing her in the morning, Mary had gone immediately to Ivy's house that morning. There, May, Ivy, and Daisy had been working ferociously, cooking and baking for the women's feast to be held late that afternoon.

Everything had been planned.

Elsie was delighted her scheme had worked. Though she thought Lady Mary rather selfish, she knew the young woman was fond of Anna, and would do practically anything to make her happy. One letter to her suggesting a women's feast for the bride-to-be had worked wonders.

Sybil appeared in the archway from the garden, panting slightly. "I'm sorry I took so long," she apologized, gratefully taking the water skin Elsie offered her. "Anna went on and on about her tunic and shawl, and the bracelet from John. Phyllis tried to give me a chance to get away earlier, but she could not find a way to do it without making Anna suspicious. Thankfully, Thomas and Edward showed up and took the bride away to show her the finished house. I know what you're thinking," she looked at Elsie and set the water skin down on the bench, "But you shouldn't worry. John is not there – Charles, Thomas, Edward, Albert and William finished the roof this morning, while the king took the bridegroom hawking." She grinned at the priestesses. "It's a good thing Anna's so excited. She hardly noticed how nervous we all were."

"So she didn't notice anything amiss, then?" Isobel asked.

"No. She _did_ ask Thomas where Daisy was, but he managed to worm his way out of that one."

"Good," Elsie stood up and gave her a hug. "She'll see Daisy soon enough – along with a host of other people."

"Which will hopefully _not_ include any of your husbands or sons," Violet interjected. "Does Charles know they need to be here soon?"

"He does," Elsie said quickly. "I told him more than once."

She had an inkling what he would think when he heard what Sybil had to say. Her daughter had told her earlier that morning, what had happened at the king's hall.

"I thought I saw William near the forge when I was running over here," Sybil told the priestess. "They should be here any moment."

No sooner had she finished speaking when she turned, looking out to the garden. Albert, William and Charles walked through the newly weeded garden, and its riot of color.

Violet and Isobel curtsied to the floor to the two gods when they came through the archway.

"Welcome to the temple of Eala," Violet said quietly. She seemed relieved when they both smiled in her direction.

Albert's eyes widened as he gazed upwards toward the high ceiling. He walked over to Beryl and wrapped an arm around her waist, studying the huge room.

"I should have known you'd have the fanciest place," he teased Elsie. Charles stiffened, bristling a little.

"This temple is a homage to the Goddess," he said. "I would never call it _fancy_ , but it was built with the deepest respect and admiration for Eala."

Part of him thought he was being silly, talking to a god that way. But he could not quite get used to how informal how they all were around each other. It seemed sacrilegious. And as different as his view of the Goddess of Love was _now_ , he was as defensive as ever of her sacred honor.

"Of course it was," Sybil reassured him. "It suits you, Mother."

"Indeed." Elsie smoothed a hand on Charles's back. She felt him relax a little.

"Well," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "I should go, let you all have your discussion-"

"Aren't you staying?" William asked, leaning against the wall on the other side of the archway. "What we talk about affects you as well."

Charles raised his eyebrows, skeptical. "I'm a mortal-"

"As are we," Isobel reminded him. She and Violet moved to sit on the bench.

"Yes, but you are the _priestesses_ of Eala," he argued, "Charged with serving her, as well as looking after the welfare of the village."

"And you are Eala's husband," Violet glared at him, resting a wrinkled hand on her cane. "If the Goddess desires your presence here, who are you to question it?"

Charles glanced at Elsie, who kept her hand on his back.

"Stay, please," she murmured. "What concerns me, concerns you."

What she did not say, he read in her eyes.

 _This is about our family. You and me._

"All right," he whispered, standing by her side.

Sybil wasted no time telling them what had happened at the king's hall. The priestesses were shocked when she spoke of Victor's presence, but Beryl let out an alarmed gasp, and Charles clutched Elsie's arm so hard she winced in pain. He loosened his fingers, muttering an apology.

"You're sure?" William asked Sybil, his blue eyes worried. "Sure it was him?"

"Positive," she answered. "It was not like the smell of sulfur from the stream, near the forge," she pointed vaguely in the direction of the place outside. "It _was_ Victor."

"And he – " Charles stuttered, his voice along with his heart. "Or she, whatever the disguise was, didn't see _you?_ "

 _The gods can be invisible if they choose._

"No," Sybil gave him a small smile, touched by his worry for her. "I spoke with Tom that night, and he said Victor had no idea _I_ was there."

He felt slightly better hearing her words. But it horrified him that Thomas had encountered Victor. He was terrified for his son's sake, even after Sybil told them what Thomas and Edward had told her.

"Victor didn't harm him," Sybil said quietly, seeing what he was thinking. "Him, or Edward. Take some comfort from that."

"That does not seem like him. He's more likely to set mortals on fire, rather than have a conversation with them." Albert spoke up before holding his hands up at Charles and Elsie's mutual appalled expression. "Sorry," he mumbled, "But _our_ fear is that Victor knows about the two of you. And if he does, then he also knows about Thomas and Daisy."

"Why else would he have been at the hall?" William asked, a frown marring his face. "If he was in mortal form to watch _you_ , Elsie, why was he there, instead of in Downton? It doesn't make sense."

Elsie exchanged a glance with Sybil. "I hardly know," she murmured, feeling ashamed that her presence had, once again, endangered everyone. "His mind is a mystery to me. But I think you are wrong, Albert, about him caring nothing for _any_ mortals." She thought back to what she knew of him. "He's been appearing as one of them for longer than any of the gods, other than the King. As much as I doubt he's gained understanding of anything - beyond his own skill as a smith - it may be possible he's formed attachments with people in the past. It could be he's close to someone, and it have nothing to do with me."

The thought had occurred to her when Sybil spoke of her conversation with Thomas. The easy way the strange blacksmith had talked with their son, spoke of a connection with mortals that Elsie had not perceived. Edward defending the stranger… _of course he would, kind heart that he has!_

But she could not shake the sensation that Victor _had_ been at the hall for her. As little sense as it made. That thought gave her no comfort at all.

"Never mind why he was there! What worries me is that fact getting back to your father," Beryl slipped her arm through Albert's, nodding at Elsie. "Victor usually does things on his own, or sometimes with Athena's help, but I would not be surprised if he tells the King what he knows about you. _If_ he knows anything at all, which I am not convinced he does. But we can't take the chance that _someone_ might find out and tell your father about his comings and goings, whether it's Victor himself, or someone else who blabs."

"And of course Tom can't ask Victor what he knows about Mother, not directly," Sybil crossed her arms in an uncanny imitation of her husband's. "Or what he was doing at the hall. He has to be getting suspicious with how often Tom goes to the forge as it is. William, have you seen him do anything that makes you think he knows about Mother and Charles?"

The blond-haired god shook his head. "I have not been able to watch the Master of Fire as often as I wanted. The fields have been bountiful, as you know. The times I _have_ seen him, he's been hard at work. Like usual. I'm sorry, Elsie," he sighed. "Tom cannot watch him all the time, and it's very possible I've missed him disappearing."

"It is not your fault," she turned and patted him on the arm. "Don't blame yourself."

"But what is to be done?" Isobel asked. "Surely if the Fire God is here, it puts all of us in mortal danger-"

"Not the gods, Cousin Isobel, they will merely be in _danger_ ," Violet muttered out of the corner of her mouth. "You and I, Charles, and every other creature of flesh and blood, on the other hand, will live in fear for our lives. For perhaps a very short time, depending on the whims of Eala's immortal fiancé."

There was a long silence that thickened as the moments wore on.

"Well done," Isobel rolled her eyes and glanced at Charles and the divine beings around them. "Was it your intention to cast a shadow over everyone? If so, you succeeded!"

"We are servants of the Divine," Violet said, unfazed. "I was simply reminding them what is at stake for _us_."

"As if they needed reminding!" Isobel cried.

"We're all aware, oh Great One," Beryl said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "As it happens, we know the consequences of our actions better than _you_ do."

Sybil glanced at her mother. "Maybe I should go home," she met Elsie's eyes. "To better watch Victor."

Before the words were fully out of her mouth, Elsie shook her head firmly. "No." She was adamant. "That is _not_ a good idea."

Tom, she knew, had no intention of risking the King or Victor finding out Sybil knew what was going on. There would be a much greater risk they would find out, if Sybil returned to divine form. Elsie heartily agreed with Tom. There was a similar reason as to why Charles did not want Thomas and Daisy ever to be told of her divinity. It was for their protection.

"I agree with you," Violet looked at Elsie before turning her attention to Sybil. "Not that I would deign to tell a goddess what to do-" she steadfastly ignored Isobel's snort, "-but may I remind you of your duty to my granddaughter? She is very fond of you, and after Anna marries, you will be her most reliable support. She needs you."

"As much as that is true, Cousin Mary can always find another servant," Isobel said, rather obstinate. _Really!_ She thought. _As if the worst would happen is for the family to be inconvenienced!_

"Maybe it _would_ be best for Sybil to return home," mulled William, his hand on his chin. "I doubt she would draw suspicion from Victor."

Charles watched the conversation with growing unease. He felt on the outside of it all, while being responsible for the cause. He thought perhaps it _would_ be best if Sybil returned to her usual form – after all, who could they trust more to watch over them and see what the Fire God was up to, other than the Messenger? And they could not count on him and Beryl's son to do _all_ of it.

But the thought of Sybil gone filled him with sadness.

 _I do not want her to leave._

It made him feel selfish.

Elsie reached out and touched Sybil's face. "Do not feel like you _have_ to go back, for my sake or for anyone else's. I worry about you, too. The last thing I want is for you to be caught up in my troubles." She knew her daughter would make up her own mind, but she did not like the thought of her leaving at all – not just for her own happiness, but for Charles's, Daisy's and Thomas's. She and Charles both were aware that the biggest reason (if not the _only_ reason) why their son had not lost his temper with them on his return home was Sybil.

She was not keen on their family, so lately come together, to be torn apart.

Especially not because of her.

"I know," Sybil sighed, taking her mother's hand and kissing it. "Not that I ever mind helping you. To be honest, though, if I _did_ leave, it could cause more trouble here. How could you and Charles explain my absence to Thomas and Daisy? If I devoted myself to watching Victor, I would not feel comfortable enough to come back again. Tom has tried to keep from visiting here too often for the same reason."

She looked over Elsie's shoulder directly at Charles. He saw a plethora of feelings there, and he swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat.

 _She does not want to leave us – her family – either._

What she said about not coming back struck him hard.

 _None of us, except for Elsie and her friends, would ever see her again._

"How do we know your return would help?" He asked. "I mean, of course your vigilance _would_ help to a certain extent, but it seems that no one knows what the Fire God is doing now, or has done in the past. And it seems unlikely that anyone would be able to find out without drawing more attention to us."

Elsie squeezed his hand. "Or making Victor realize we are watching _him_."

"You also don't seem to relish the thought of returning home," Beryl said to Sybil. "Other than seeing your husband more often, naturally. Charles and Elsie are right about Victor, as I think we all know…and," she said with some exasperation, "Though you would be the last one of us to need a reminder of your promises to the mortals here…the priestess Violet is right about you and her granddaughter. I think it'd be better if you stayed."

Elsie shot her friend a grateful glance. _Thank you._

Violet sat back against the wall, her eyebrows so high they disappeared into her hair. "Can somebody write that down? To save the words for posterity?"

"I find the task of scribe too burdensome at the moment," muttered Isobel, shaking her head.

"I think we're more in danger of forgetting something, or some _one_ more important," Beryl continued, raising her voice a little. "Victor is not the only one to fear-"

"But he's the only one who we _know_ has been here!" Isobel cried, losing patience. "Can we please stick to those things of which we are certain, instead of engaging in speculation? It is bad enough my cousin was so _good_ to remind us mortals what our fate could be in the Master of Fire's hands! Are we to cower in fear of every other god in the Divine Halls, too?"

"No. But the bigger worry is _not_ Victor," Albert patiently explained. He gave his wife a warning look. "If the King finds out about Elsie and Charles, His anger would make Victor's look like a child's. That is why we've been keeping a close eye on Him since Midsummer."

"A _very_ close eye," Beryl walked over to stand next to William, her face red, "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, Victor is not the only one to fear."

"I am sorry," Isobel replied, looking both contrite and as if she had more to say. Beryl spoke up again before she could.

"We don't know what his mind is, as Elsie said. It is the farthest thing from speculation to stick to what we know-" she made sure to give Isobel a pointed look, "-and what we do know is what Elsie's father would do if He finds out about her. Elsie was right when she spoke of Victor. He has not always burned mortals to teach them a lesson. It is possible he's formed attachments to people here. Yes, he's dangerous because we are not certain what he's thinking, or doing, but the King is _far_ more dangerous – precisely because we _do_ know what He thinks, and what He can do. He will be beyond furious if He learns of a union between his immortal daughter and a mortal man." She paused for breath. "We cannot control Victor or the King of the Gods. But what Albert and I can do is to keep a firm watch on Elsie's father. Make sure He stays with His lovely nymph friend, and forgets about His daughter for a good long time, and His promising her in marriage to Victor."

"He's lost interest in me before," Elsie said drily. "But what _about_ Victor? We cannot simply forget about the threat he poses to everyone-"

William put his arm around Beryl, a silent conversation going on between them. "And we never will," he turned sad eyes to Elsie. "The harvest will soon be over. When it is, I will help Tom even more to keep an eye on the Master Blacksmith. _Both_ of my eyes, certainly."

Elsie understood what he meant immediately.

"Oh _no_ ," she whispered. "Surely…it does not have to come to that?"

"I think it must," Beryl said, winding her other arm around Albert, who walked over to join his wife and son. "For us, at least. Sybil can stay here, but we will return home while your marriage to Charles lasts."

"What do you mean?" Isobel sat forward, her dark eyes wide. She thought she knew but wanted to be certain.

As certain as they could be of anything.

Elsie pressed a hand to her mouth, feeling tears fill her eyes. "It means," she said in a shaking voice, "That when William, Albert and Beryl return to divine form, they will never again appear in Downton until after Charles goes to Elysium."

Charles felt a chill down his back.

 _Consequences._

He had worried about what could happen to Thomas and Daisy if the Fire God found out about his marriage. Now to protect him, his family and every other mortal, the gods were sacrificing their chance to further their friendship.

He did _not_ want to think about…after he went to Elysium, but he couldn't help it. The implication was clear.

 _We, or more precisely,_ _ **I**_ _will never see them again. And I was worried about hosting the gods!_

He knew then he never would in the future – except for Sybil. The pain on his wife's face was plain to see, as was her daughter's.

"That seems…rather drastic," Isobel said finally, quietly folding her hands in her lap. "You have only come here twice since Elsie arrived." Violet's shoulders drooped, but she said nothing.

"Nothing is too drastic to help our friends," Beryl told her. "If it were me, I know Elsie, Sybil and Tom would do the same for me. And not to worry," she looked around, trying to cheer everyone, "We're not leaving until _after_ Anna's feast, the wedding, and the Festival. The last thing we want is to throw cold water over you all." She turned to Charles and Elsie, her eyes twinkling even as a sad smile hovered on her lips. "Well, except for you two!"

Elsie laughed through her tears and hugged Beryl and then William, Sybil right behind her.

"We would have liked to have had more times with you, and all your family," Albert said quietly to Charles. Some of the shepherd's skepticism must have showed in his eyes, because the god put a hand on his shoulder. "You have made her happier than she's ever been. Never forget that. It gives _us_ joy to see her and Sybil so happy."

"Thank you," Charles replied. He could hardly think of anything else to say.

As he shook William's hand, and accepted a kiss on the cheek from Beryl, his thoughts were far away. For the first time he wondered what would happen to Elsie. After their marriage ended.

 _After I'm dead._

She would be married to the God of Fire, to appease her father.

Forever.

He was called from the unpleasant scene in his mind by Violet's voice. He forced himself to pay attention.

"…more attentive than ever," she said to Elsie, turning next to him. "You _cannot_ underestimate the risk that fire brings you. We have little idea of what the Master of Fire has seen while in mortal form, but I would be shocked if he has not watched you from his forge, through the fires in your home." Her eyes pierced Elsie's.

"We are aware of the danger," Elsie reached for Charles's hand, and he took it. "We never speak of any…personal matters while a fire burns in the hearth. And we never have any fire at night inside the house."

She did not look at Charles while she spoke. The memory of their recent conversation still upset her, of what they could not share. Of what _she_ could not share fully with him.

"We won't forget," Charles said. "We understand the responsibility we have, to be mindful of our use of fire."

 _Our family and friends, even several of the gods, depend on us._

It would be difficult, he knew, but worth it in the end if he and Elsie kept themselves hidden.

Isobel stood up and went to the archway, looking at the garden. "Our guests will be arriving soon," she said, "Including the queen, her mother, and Lady Mary."

"That's the signal for you two to leave," Beryl playfully pushed Albert and William. "And you too, Master Shepherd." Charles gave her a slight bow, and she scoffed at him. "No need of that from you! The priestesses do that sort of thing, which is their right, but you're my best friend's mate. I expect no genuflecting from _her_ , so why should I get any from you?"

"But-" he began, wanting to protest. Albert laughed.

"There's no arguing with her," he nudged Charles with his elbow. "The sooner you learn that, the better."

Charles blinked for a moment, then said in a very dry voice, "She sounds like my wife."

Elsie turned at the sound of Beryl and Albert's laughter echoing in the temple. "Are you talking about me?"

"Yes." Smiling, Charles hugged her close.

William approached him. "We'd better go before the rest of the women get here. Elsie, if I don't see you later this evening-"

"We'll see you tomorrow, for the wedding," she finished. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, but she reached up and gave him a fond kiss on the cheek. "Don't let my husband drink too much wine now," her eyes twinkled.

William raised his eyebrows. "I would never _dream_ of telling your husband how much wine he can consume."

The shepherd raised his own eyebrows. "That would be wise." He and William shared a grin. "I will be along in a moment." William and Albert walked to the doors at the front of the temple.

Elsie held Charles's hands in hers. A little line appeared between her eyes at his expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, before sighing. "Well, there is something on my mind, but it can wait. I don't want to dampen your evening, not after everything we've just discussed. Give my love to Daisy. I hope you have a good time!"

"I will, as long as you don't keep whatever is troubling you inside for too long," she said, leaning closer for a kiss.

"Mmm," he murmured. As ever, the touch of her lips took away his anxiety and fretful thoughts. "I won't. I promise." They embraced, and he held her close. "I only want the next few days to be happy, not clouded over."

"Me too," she whispered. "There _is_ sadness, of course, but we'll enjoy our time with our friends while we can."

Sybil gestured in her direction. "Phyllis is here!"

"I have to go, and so do you," Elsie gave him a playful swat. "Now go, drink wine, help the others keep John calm for tomorrow, and _don't_ believe every story that comes out of Robert's mouth! He may have been wilder in his younger days, but he has never had liaisons with women – or men - worth boasting of before he married Cora." She smiled beneath her eyelashes. "Believe me, I know."

Charles stopped a few steps away from her. " _I_ have a liaison worth boasting of. But not a word of it will escape my lips," a wide smile spread across his face at the sight of her blush. "I want it to continue for a good long while."

"As does she," she blew him a kiss and went out through the archway with the others. He went out the doors, where William and Albert were waiting.


	42. A Surprise

**A/N: What a week. The emotional roller-coaster of real life goes on, with a bit of ill health thrown in. Lovely.**

 **This chapter is finally – FINALLY – getting to the part of the story that I outlined close to six months ago. There are lots of different POVs here, and I hope they aren't too confusing. There are main characters in this story, and there are other characters who don't show up as often, but have important roles to play further down the road. I wanted to give glimpses into some of their minds, so you can see what's going on with them.**

 **MANY canon quotes either quoted outright here, or are paraphrased. As far from the original Downton Abbey as this story has strayed, there are still some tenuous links to it. I do not own anything related to Downton Abbey.**

 **One of the quotes used in this chapter can be used as the theme of this story, so I changed the description.**

 **Thank you all so much for reading! Cheers!**

* * *

"Phyllis!"

The wheelwright's wife was appreciating the beautiful temple garden. The riot of color combined with the piercing sunshine in her eyes when she turned made her blink rapidly, and she shifted her feet to keep her balance.

Instinctively, she laid a hand on the small mound beneath her tunic.

 _Soon I'll feel you kick, dear one. According to Isobel._

Sybil raced up to her and took Phyllis's other hand, her dimples showing. "Welcome, you're the first one to arrive!"

"As I see," Phyllis replied, giving the young woman a hug. She nodded at the purpletop flowers and blue aster that covered the northern wall of the garden. "You and Elsie-I mean," she stuttered, remembering what the shepherdess had told her, "-your mother…must have worked very hard this morning. It looks beautiful."

"Thank you," Sybil led her through the garden to the stone bench. "But Mother and her friend Beryl worked on that part of it. I did other things."

Next to the bench, a low round table had been placed on the grass, with a large pink canopy hanging over it. The canopy almost obscured the statute of the Fire God just behind it. The Master of Fire's image was adorned with warm yellow crocuses. Phyllis smiled at it.

"That color is very fitting," she commented, sitting down. "Anna likes that statue very much. She's a devotee of the Fire God, though I think she became more devout towards him after she met John."

She did not see the smile slip on Sybil's face.

"I'm sure marrying a blacksmith is part of it," Sybil said finally. "But Anna is devoted to _all_ of the gods – as she should be."

"Her prayers to the Divine Lady will likely be a bit more fervent tonight," the corners of Phyllis's mouth turned up. "I know mine were the night before my marriage. Happy is the bride who looks _forward_ to her wedding night!"

Every day with Joseph made her more and more thankful for her husband. He was gentle and tender, but was fierce as a lion when it came to protecting her. And now, their unborn child.

Her old life with Peter seemed like a nightmare that had faded from memory, like early-morning fog.

Sybil laughed, her hand on Phyllis's shoulder. "And our friend is certainly happy…she looked beautiful in her tunic and shawl earlier. Tomorrow she will be stunning."

The priestesses came into the garden from the temple. Violet seated herself at the table, but Isobel remained standing.

"Why did you sit?" She asked her cousin. "You'll only have to stand again once Anna gets here. And before that, when the food arrives, to help set it on the table."

Violet pursed her lips, tilting her head up to give Isobel an obstinate look. "I am perfectly capable of giving orders while sitting down. Aren't you?"

Isobel rolled her eyes, her hands on her hips. "As priestesses, it is our duty and honor to be servants to others, not to be ones who _give_ orders. Have you forgotten your vows?"

"Certainly not," Violet said. "How can I, when you are constantly reminding me of them?"

Elsie introduced Beryl to Phyllis. Her friend liked the dark-haired woman right away.

"Congratulations on your little one," she said, smiling. "There are few joys in the world like them."

"Thank you," Phyllis blushed. "I…it may seem strange, but part of me won't believe the baby's real until I feel him or her inside."

"That's not strange at all," Elsie reassured her. "It's one thing to feel ill and tired, but when your bairn makes him or herself known, you start to dream of what your child will be." She touched Sybil's cheek fondly. "And when you can feel your child, so can your man. I'm sure Joseph will be smiling all through autumn after he feels the tiny kicks."

"Do you think the baby's a boy or girl?" Beryl asked. "I suppose Joseph wants a son. Most men do, anyway."

Shaking her head, Phyllis grinned. "He says he'll be happy either way. Maybe some men just say that, but I heard him tell his father a few days ago he hopes the baby's a girl. As for me," she shrugged, "I can't say one way or the other."

But her smile said otherwise.

"You _do_ know!" Sybil cried. "Or at least, you have an inkling! Come on, tell us what you think – a mother's intuition is hardly ever wrong!"

"Spoken like someone who's yet to bear a child," Beryl teased her. "I was certain I was having a daughter…until the moment my tall lad made his entrance. My sweet lamb." She shared a smile with Elsie, who barely repressed a laugh, knowing what her friend was thinking.

 _ **You**_ _knew what I was having…and you wouldn't_ _tell_ _me! You still think it is funny, don't you?_

Daisy, Ivy, and May arrived soon after, with a cartful of fresh bread, shepherd's pies, fish still hot from the fire (Beryl said the sizzling of it made her hungrier), pastries with honey, ripe apples and an assortment of other fruits.

"We're absolutely starving," Ivy said as they placed everything on the table. "After smelling this all day. But how am I going to eat anything tomorrow at the wedding feast, too?"

"You'll just have to work up an appetite again," Daisy told her. "Good thing there will be musicians to play so we can dance!"

Everyone was busy setting the table. Violet got up and began scouring the garden for just the right flowers to set at Anna's place.

"I see you _do_ have something of a servant's heart, despite all appearances," Isobel muttered under her breath, as she set down a platter of fish and another of roasted apples. Violet passed her to go to the other side of the table.

"I do care about things other than myself. That should not surprise you," the older woman shot back, a fistful of white crocuses in her hands. "If I waited until Cora arrived, she would choose flowers that more resembled a funeral, rather than a feast."

Elsie was carrying a delicious apple pie from the cart when she saw Mary, Cora, and Martha walk through the western gate. With them were an excited Madge, and Sarah, who looked as though she was not sure what she was doing there.

Quickly handing the pie to Beryl, Elsie approached the women, Sybil behind her. "Milady," she curtsied to the queen, then to Mary. "Welcome, and thank you for coming. The table is nearly finished."

"And Anna is not here yet," Mary nodded, seeing who else was there. "Good. I sent one of Papa's messengers to give Thomas the signal, so he and Edward should be sending Anna here soon."

"This is a great gift you are giving her," Elsie said quietly. "She will be very grateful to you, I'm sure."

It had surprised her to see the lavish generosity the king's daughter had shown to a woman who was, after all, her servant. Elsie had thought the _blessed_ Lady Mary would have simply given a nice wedding gift and been done with it. But arranging the women's feast was a tribute more to Mary's affection and friendship towards Anna. It showed, to Elsie at least, that there was more to the woman than simply being Robert's eldest daughter and mother of the king's heir.

And she was very glad to see it.

Mary raised her eyebrows. "There would be no feast if you had not suggested it," she countered. "I simply planned it, with a lot of help from Sybil." She nodded at Elsie's daughter. "Anna should thank the two of you when she arrives, not me."

She was usually one to take all of the credit for a good idea if it was given to her. But she was reluctant to ignore Sybil's efforts, as well as Elsie's. What their motivations were towards Anna, she did not know. But she was in no doubt they were genuine.

Seeing the shepherdess once more unnerved her. It was one thing to exchange letters and messages, with only words scratched on scrolls to tell her something of the woman, but quite another to see her in the flesh again.

 _I either forgot, or did not want to remember, how she looked at Midsummer._

It made her feel as though the woman stood in the sunshine, while she stood in the shade.

 _Edith would no doubt find that amusing._

"She will be generous with her thanks, to all of you I'm sure," Cora said, smiling. "Thank you, Elsie, for writing about Anna. She is so modest – she _never_ would have said anything to us herself! She has not had an easy life-"

"Who among us has?" muttered Sarah under her breath. Sybil glared at the older woman, but the queen kept talking, seeming not to hear her servant.

"-and it would have been a shame for her not to have a feast like so many do."

"Well said, dear," Martha took Cora's elbow. "Now why don't we all move closer to the table? Otherwise the bride will appear, and no one will see her." She gestured for all of them to move from the gate.

The matchmaker walked behind her daughter and granddaughter as they made their way to join the others under the canopy. She fell into step beside Elsie.

"Marriage agrees with you," she said, looking over the shepherdess with approval. "It's being with the right man. Like Anna with John."

"Thank you," Elsie watched Madge give Sybil a hug before embracing Ivy. "I am delighted for Anna. She and John are perfect together. Though," she turned a little in Martha's direction, "it does surprise me that you would attend her feast. You did not match them."

"No, I did not," Martha did not look surprised or offended by Elsie's candor. "But if I withheld giving every bride who did not come to me my good wishes, I would have few friends at all. And as it so happens," she continued, "when Anna first came to Downton, she worked for me for a short time. I know what kind of person she is. A more honest woman you'll rarely see."

She had no intention of telling Elsie she had once considered matching Anna with Charles. That would be foolish in the extreme.

 _Charles and John have similar traits. Pairing off the shepherd with Anna would not have been a terrible match. But it would have been the wrong one, for numerous reasons._

 _The most important being Elsie. They are so perfectly balanced, even a blind man could see it!_

"So it did not upset you when you found out Anna and John were promised to each other?" Elsie wondered at the matchmaker. Surely it would have ruffled the woman a little that Anna had made her own choice, without her input.

"Not at all," Martha dangled her long silver necklace through her fingers. "She came to me before then, and I was unable to give her a suitable match. It irked me a little that I failed, but only because I wanted her to be happy." She gave Elsie a sideways glance. "I think I've surprised you."

"Yes," Elsie admitted. "I thought that as matchmaker, you would want people to come to you to find their mates. Regardless of anyone's personal feelings."

"I'm not without romance," Martha nodded at the temple that loomed before them. "I am fully aware that love often follows its own path. With or without my help. I have enough money to live on without condemning poor souls to lifetimes of misery, anyway."

At this, Elsie shook her head, laughing. "Something tells me even if you were poor, you would never force someone into an unhappy match. In that, you remind me of Violet. Both of you certain you know what's best, while hiding soft hearts." She grinned, looking at the priestess, who was greeting Cora.

An amused smile played on Martha's lips. "I am not often compared with Robert's mother, and consider it a compliment. But I'll accept it as such from you." Her eyes flicked up to the temple, then back at her companion. "At least _one_ person here knows what on earth is going on."

* * *

Laughter echoed through the trees as Thomas, Anna and Edward crossed a little bridge over a creek south of the village. To their right, the road could be seen. But instead of heading towards it, Edward steered the other two onto a small path that wound behind several houses.

"Why are we going this way?" Anna asked, still giggling. She hiccupped, and the sound made Thomas explode into laughter again.

"It's prettier here," he managed to say, his right arm linked through Anna's left. Her right arm was firmly hooked through Edward's left.

The wavy-haired youth snorted at his mate's glee, sharing the private joke. "Besides, it's dustier on the road. And Daisy said she would be in the garden. She should be there by now."

"It would hardly matter if I got a little dirt on me," Anna's eyes sparkled. "Helping her and Sybil weed in the temple garden is hardly like mending in Lady Mary's chamber. I expect to get a _little_ dirty. In the garden, not the hall."

Thomas put on an indignant front. "But what would happen if a worm crawled in your hair and you didn't see it? Tomorrow night it would hardly be a good sign if John took you to bed and the first thing he touched was a _worm_!"

"Or," Edward joined in the silliness, "You and Daisy got into a mud-fight and you got mud up your nose! That would _not_ be a pretty sight!"

"You two!" Anna nudged one, then the other, with her elbows. "You talk as though I didn't already tell you I plan on having a hot bath tonight! There will be no mud _anywhere_ on me on my wedding day, or worms for John to find in my hair!" She shook her head, grinning. "If you both are so worried about being clean, make sure _you_ bathe before my wedding."

"I will," Edward half-skipped over a rock on the path. "Thatching your roof in the hot sun made me sweaty-"

"What's wrong with that?" murmured Thomas.

"-and your guests would not like it if I stank."

Anna called hello to a woman drying tunics in the sun. "The only one who _might_ mind is Lady Mary, but I know you won't be standing next to her all day!"

"You know what? I think I'll go for a swim in the lake now," Thomas said lightly, slowing down to a stop. The tall roof of Eala's temple could be seen a short distance away. "It's still early. Father won't expect us back until nearer to sunset for our meal."

There was no meal planned, of course. Not at his home.

Not that Anna knew that. And if everything had gone according to plan, she would find out very soon.

"If I'm to keep on your father's good side, I'd better go too," Edward let go of Anna's arm, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I am sorry, but tell the girls we need to be cleaned more than the garden."

"Oh," Anna's face fell. "I _did_ want us to spend a little more time together. After tomorrow, we won't have many chances. Couldn't you both come, just for a while?"

Thomas had to force himself not to look at Edward. "No, we had a lovely time showing you the house," he said carefully. "You should go and have a laugh with the girls. It's only fair."

"And we shouldn't make John jealous," Edward cracked a smile. "If he finds out you spent half of the day with us, he will be."

Anna laughed, holding her hand to her mouth. "You know he won't. Not the two of you. Fine," she sighed, still smiling, though the disappointment showed on her face. "I will see you both tomorrow. _Clean_ , I hope!"

They laughed, and Thomas gave her a hug. Then they walked in the other direction. Edward dared to look behind them after they were nearly to the creek.

"She's behind the forge," he whispered. He and Thomas darted into the trees and they hurried behind her, trying to keep her in sight.

"Do you think she suspects anything? I didn't want to be too obvious, but we saw Mark _ages_ ago, back by the house-"

"I don't think so," whispered Edward. "If she does, she decided not to say anything." They watched her go past the empty forge, then smile at two little girls running past her on the path.

Thomas bumped Edward's arm, making him jump. "Come on. It's a warm day, and a dip in the lake is just what I need."

"Do you have worms in your hair? I can help you pick them out. Or help you scrub any mud stains off," his mate joked. "Then again, _I'm_ rather dirty, too…"

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Thomas kissed his temple. "You will need a _long_ bath. As will I."

They made their way through the trees to someone's pasture, then walked to the main road.

* * *

The sun danced through the leaves overhead, speckling the ground with light. Anna sighed with contentment as she walked towards the temple.

In truth, she was glad to be alone. For a little while.

Thoughts of the morrow made her belly flutter. _Us being the center of attention! Everyone there, including the king and all the family!_

She had thought of Elsie and Charles's wedding, the private vows exchanged between the couple. Just them and the gods. Part of her would have been happy doing the same.

 _Except John doesn't believe in the gods._

She wished he did, for his own sake. She knew his mother had. But she also knew he was stubborn, and the last way to get him to believe in something he didn't, was to nag him about it.

It was for _her_ sake, she knew, that he was willing to get married with a priestess present. She loved him for it.

And she was glad, now that the day was nearly there, that he had reminded her of having their close friends attend. It would be a great day, full of happiness and love.

 _If Gracie could be there, it would be perfect._

She swallowed a lump in her throat. A long letter had arrived from her sister only days before. Gracie's loving words had warmed her through more than anything else could – other than when she was in John's arms, of course.

 _It would have been nice for Master Burns to be there as well. He wanted to._

 _We can't always get what we want._

It was in her nature to be optimistic, to think of the positive things, and not dwell on what she could not change. It had been hard letting go of wanting her mum to be there. But it only took reading her short, terse message once to convince her that _that_ bridge had been burned.

 _By Mum._

 _It was_ _ **her**_ _choice._

 _You have John, and Lady Mary, and Thomas, and many friends who care about you._

She wiped her eyes, grinning at a pair of girls, sisters by the look of them, who ran by her, holding hands.

The wall to the temple gardens loomed ahead to her right. Its gate was slightly open. Anna walked towards it, humming slightly. A frown crossed her face at the sound coming from inside. It was not two girls laughing, but lively chatter. As if there was a crowd inside.

She stepped into the garden, a large willow tree hiding the rest of the space from view. The groan from the gate was deafening in her ear. Turning to close it, she heard silence where moments before there had been voices talking.

Then again, there were several shushing noises, as if people were trying to keep quiet.

When she turned around again, she saw Lady Mary standing there.

"What are you doing here, milady?" She asked, feeling confused. "I thought you were visiting your grandmother."

 _Did I not hear her directions correctly this morning? Did she need me?_

"I was not entirely honest with you. I apologize." The dark-haired woman did not look apologetic - Anna thought she might laugh. There was a glint in her eye that had been rare to see since Matthew's death. "Though my grandmother _is_ here now…along with several others." She ushered Anna past her, smiling at the look of total surprise on the bride's face when she saw everyone standing around the table under the billowing canopy.

"Surprise!" Sybil, Daisy, Ivy and Madge cried. Anna gasped in astonishment as she looked from face to face, tears forming in her eyes.

"Is-is this for _me_?" She managed to say, not daring to believe it. " _All_ of this?"

It seemed too good to be true. A women's feast. For _her._

She could almost hear John in her ear. _Of course you deserve this, my darling._

"It is," Elsie approached her, smiling, and put a hand on her shoulder. "A feast in your honor, given by Lady Mary." She hugged the young woman, who still seemed in shock.

"Who would never have planned it, if I hadn't been told by very good friends of yours," Mary's voice was gentle. "Many people love you, and are willing to go to great lengths to show it."

The quiet sentiment, spoken by anyone else, would have moved her. Spoken by Lady Mary, it made Anna burst into tears. She was glad Elsie held onto her until her joy was a little more contained.

Through watery eyes, Anna saw the priestesses. Isobel gave her a warm smile, and Violet's usually piercing eyes were soft.

"This is your seat," Sybil gestured to an empty spot. She dashed over to Anna and gave her a huge hug. "You'd better sit," she joked, wiping tears off Anna's face. "We can't start the feast until you sit down."

Anna laughed and composed herself, then curtsied to Cora. She sat down, and the feast began. In no time the noise of happy voices floated once more over the garden walls.

* * *

The food was mostly gone, but there was still wine left. More than once, Anna began to get up, to serve either Cora or Lady Mary, but they shooed her down. Sybil and Madge insisted on filling her cup, as well as everyone else's when needed.

"I should not have any more wine," Anna confessed, as she declined Madge's offer. "The last thing I want is to have a headache in the morning."

"If my brother were here, he would certainly have a headache in the morning," said May. "And then he'd get a second one from my sister-in-law."

"Patrick had too much wine the night before our wedding," Violet said. "But the drink always loosened his tongue, and made him rather merry, so it was not such a _bad_ thing." She chortled to herself, remembering.

Cora laughed. "That is something else Robert inherited from his father, then!"

Grinning, Martha held up her cup and leaned towards her daughter. "Robert was very happy at your wedding, and it wasn't just the wine. _You_ were pretty merry yourself, if I remember correctly. The two of you rushing off before you had greeted all the guests…"

Mary groaned. "Do we need to hear the details of this?"

"You are fortunate we don't _know_ the details," Martha took a drink from her cup. "Though if Cora wishes to tell Anna, now would be the time to do so."

"Mother, that is not necessary," Cora turned pink. She turned to Anna, who watched the women go back and forth with a little smile on her face. "With the man you love…it's such good fun!"

Anna ducked her head, her face turning red. "Thank you, milady," she raised her cup to the queen, and they both drank.

"Do you have any advice for the bride, Mary?" Isobel asked, leaning on the table.

"Make sure the groom comes to the right house," Mary raised an eyebrow at Anna, who laughed. "Matthew's friends had _far_ too much to drink, and they nearly left him in front of a woodsman's cottage!"

Everyone laughed, including Violet. "No doubt if they had," Isobel said, her eyes shining, "He would have found his way to you sooner rather than later. Love always does." She and Mary shared a heartfelt glance, fondly remembering him.

Phyllis reached for the last honey pastry at the same time as Beryl. "You take it," she said. "I have had more than enough already."

"It's yours," the disguised goddess said stoutly. "I'm sure your little one would enjoy it." She leaned over to Anna, who talked quietly with Elsie. "Thank you for being gracious, and letting me attend your feast," she said to the blonde-haired woman. "And for letting my family attend your wedding."

"I'm delighted to," Anna told her, smiling. "Any friend of Elsie's is a friend of mine."

"Praise indeed!" Beryl nudged Elsie in the back before sitting back to chat with Phyllis, Sybil, May, and Daisy.

Anna fidgeted, threading her fingers together. "Um…what was I saying?"

"You were asking if there was anything else you needed to know," Elsie said gently, her voice low. "And the truth is, there is not. What we spoke of yesterday is all you need to know." Anna pressed her lips together, an unspoken question in her eyes. Elsie reached over and held her hands. "John is a good man. He loves you. He would _never_ hurt you."

Above them, a dove cooed on a branch of the willow tree.

"I know you're right," Anna said softly. "I just…I want to be _calm_ tomorrow, not nervous."

"Well," Elsie lowered her eyes and bit her lip, "You can always add that to your prayers to the Goddess. Prayers to her on your last night as a maid are very sacred."

"True," Anna let out a breath. Elsie felt some of the tension leave her. "Thank you for speaking with me. Answering my questions. Mum never told me much, and…what I learned at home was not how a young girl _should_ learn about such things. I know I could have asked one of the priestesses," she looked over her shoulder at the older women, "But something told me when I stopped by the house to ask you."

"I'm very glad you did," Elsie squeezed her hands before embracing her. "If you ever need to talk, please come and see me."

"I will." They turned as some of the others roared with laughter. Violet looked torn between amusement and disapproval, while Sarah's eyebrows looked as though they would leap off her forehead.

Beryl was in the middle of telling a story.

"-and so we danced together, long enough to know the feeling was mutual. Then we snuck off to a nearby field and-"

Elsie cleared her throat loudly and pinched her friend on the arm.

" _Ow!_ " Beryl turned and glared at Elsie. "What was that for!?"

"I think that's quite enough detail, for _everyone_ ," Elsie's blue eyes glittered. She nodded in the direction of Daisy.

"We're all women here," Beryl grumbled. "And this is Anna's feast. If we can't tell risqué stories here, we can't tell them anywhere!"

Elsie sucked in a breath, studying her friend. She glanced at the younger girls. At her daughter, and Ivy and Madge. Shaking her head, she sighed. " _Fine._ But try to leave out the more naughty bits!"

"But those are the most fun!" Ivy protested. Madge giggled.

"How would _you_ know?" Daisy shook Ivy's shoulder. She leaned closer as Beryl continued her story again. By the end of it, even Mary was laughing.

"And that is why," Beryl finished with a flourish, "My dear husband and I love weddings. If we disappear for a while tomorrow, and you see me later with mud on my back-"

"We'll know where you were," Anna gasped, wiping tears away. "Reminiscing, I'm sure."

"Is _that_ what it's called now?" Mary asked, one eyebrow arched.

Cora held up her cup to Beryl. "Other than the fact that I'm sure your son would _not_ appreciate your sharing that story, it was delightful. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time!"

"Oh, he's used to me telling that story, your Ladyship," Beryl sat back, grinning at Daisy and Ivy, who laid their heads on the table, hysterical with laughter. "As long as I don't repeat it around him, he says he doesn't mind me sharing it."

Others joined in, sharing stories about love. Isobel made them all sigh when she recalled her marriage to Reginald, Matthew's father. Sybil told a story about a young couple who, enthralled with each other, failed to notice they were lying on a bed of moonflower, which grew over the unaware lovers.

"Did it choke them?" Madge asked, her eyes wide. Sybil shook her head, smiling widely.

"No. They realized what was happening before it was too late – though they did have to call for help. It was embarrassing to have all their friends laughing at them!"

She flashed a wink at her mother and Beryl, who had heard it before. Elsie suppressed a snort.

 _Tom, you likely don't mind_ _her_ _sharing that story about the two of you._

The sun had gone down, and the torches were lit, and still they all talked and laughed together. Sarah regaled them with a story about her sister's first betrothal, with a man so foolish he thought he could fight a bull.

"I think he wanted to impress her," she said, a little smirk on her face. "A fat lot of good that did him."

"Was he hurt very badly?" Ivy asked, frowning.

"Mostly his pride. But I think it hurt more that my sister threw him over. And good for her, I said," Sarah said. "If a woman's to be married, better him be a man with more sense than stupidity. She married a year after that," she said to Ivy. "To Edmund, Alfred's father. A much better choice."

Phyllis stifled a yawn behind her hand. Anna glanced at her.

"I am so sorry! It is late, and we should go," she got up and gave Phyllis her hand to help her up. "Master Joseph will be worried we're not home yet." She was staying the night at the wheelwright's house.

"He may not be home yet himself, depending on how late the men will talk, and drink," Phyllis said. "He said he would come home early, but John is one of his closest friends. He will stay until moonrise, at least."

"Or until he's had enough to drink," Anna said, barely suppressing a grin. Phyllis laughed openly.

"That would happen _long_ before moonrise. My dear man cannot drink a lot of wine before he's had far too much!"

"Too true," Isobel got up with them. "Two Midsummers ago, he danced like a wild man! And paid the price the next day. Your father-in-law thought he had a fever, but Richard assured him he was only drunk."

Anna thanked everyone with sincere gratitude. Her face radiated contentment. It was not simply a feast given in her honor that she cherished, Elsie and Sybil knew. It was that she knew she was loved.

Everyone stood and milled around the table to say their goodnights, and to give the bride best wishes for her wedding day. Mary promised to come see her early in the morning.

"Not at dawn, but not long after," she said. "It's important."

The bride-to-be was intrigued, but the king's daughter gave her an enigmatic smile and bid her good night, before Violet approached her.

"It's best that you go home with Phyllis now," she said. "No bride wants to look tired at her wedding," she patted Anna on the shoulder. "It either means she's anxious, or been up to no good."

"I don't know that I'll be able to sleep," Anna replied, running a hand through her hair. All she could think about was John.

"Tonight or tomorrow?" Sybil smirked in Elsie's direction, just as her mother took a last sip of her wine. She nearly inhaled the liquid up her nose.

"Sybil," Violet stared at her beadily, "Vulgarity is no substitute for wit."

"Well, you started it," Sybil said cheerfully. Violet opened her mouth, but then merely closed it, remaining silent. Elsie read her thoughts as easily as if the priestess had said them out loud.

 _What good is it to scold a goddess?_

"As a matter of fact, I think _I_ started it," Beryl muttered to Daisy, who grinned. Anna linked her arm through Phyllis's, and they headed to the gate. The priestesses, Elsie, and Sybil followed behind them.

"Try to rest," Isobel hugged Anna. "We will come to the house in the morning, but not as early as Mary." Anna nodded, looking behind her. In the light of the dancing flames of the torches, the other women lingered. She felt a rush of warmth for all of them, from the queen to Madge. Even Sarah.

Then a thought came to her, and her smile faded.

"What is it?" Elsie asked, seeing a shadow cross Anna's face.

"It's nothing," the young woman said quickly. Too quickly. She caught Sybil's eye, and shook her head. "I should never complain," she said low. "Not after all of this, not after how kind everyone has been."

"But?" Phyllis prompted gently. Anna blinked, her eyes moving from the woman next to her, to the others nearby, to the torches lit around the garden.

"It's just…Gracie isn't here. My aunt Nola isn't here. John would have loved for his mum to still be alive, as would I! I know it's wrong to dwell on who is not here, but I can't seem to help it."

"There is nothing wrong with missing those we love," Isobel said. "Your wedding is one of the most memorable days of your life. It's natural to be happy about your future, while at the same time missing those from your past."

"I am so grateful to you all, truly I am," Anna's voice wobbled. "You all are better family than I could have asked the gods for. But other women have _normal_ families, with mums and sisters and aunts and cousins."

"Maybe they do, but no family is ever what it seems from the outside."

Violet's voice was quiet, her face half-hidden in the darkness. Elsie turned to see the priestess's eyes fixed on her.

* * *

Thin clouds swept across the nearly-full moon. Elsie shivered a little as the breeze ruffled her hair. She pulled her cloak further around her, glad of its warmth. "Are you cold?" she asked Sybil.

"No. I never am, not when the moon nears her full strength," her daughter said. They climbed the hill to the house, both turning to wave at Beryl, who walked to the hut beneath the oak tree.

The house was dark and empty.

"Well, the men are still with John," Sybil sat down next to the well. "I do hope they come back soon. Charles will not be happy if Thomas or Edward come home drunk."

"Or if _he_ does," Elsie sighed, sitting down next to her. She doubted her husband would drink too much wine. He was too disciplined for that. But after the day he had just gone through, she wondered if he would indulge himself for once.

She remembered the look on his face when they parted at the temple.

 _What was on his mind?_

It would be tempting to ask him. If he got home soon. Daisy was spending the night with Ivy, and the lads ( _our lads_ ) were sleeping in the tent in the meadow, so she and Charles could have a mostly private conversation…

She shivered again, and the motion reminded her of the coming autumn. Of the cold.

The need for fires.

 _We will have to live as though every conversation will be heard._

 _Because they might._

It would not surprise her if that was what worried Charles.

"He will talk to you when he is ready," Sybil murmured. Elsie smiled, and pulled her close for a hug.

"I am glad you see some things clearly," she whispered. She brushed a kiss across her forehead. "Though it _is_ a bit frustrating that I cannot see the same things you can. Though perhaps you and Tom have no need of help from me."

Her daughter laughed. "You will get your chance with us, I'm sure. Remember you are not your usual appearance right now – if you were, you would be able to see much more than _I_ can."

"So how did you know what I was thinking of just now?" Elsie asked, holding Sybil in her arms. " _You_ are not in divine form right now, either."

"No. But I'm your daughter, and I know what you look like when you're thinking about Charles."

Elsie meant to give her a playful retort, something about daughters respecting their mothers, but instead she closed her eyes, concentrating.

"Prayers?"

"Mmm-hmm," Elsie nodded. Several moments later she opened her eyes again and looked up at the moon.

"Who sent them?"

"Never you mind."

"What did they ask for?"

"You know better than to ask that, Divine Peace! Mind the prayers that are sent to you, not to me!"

A slow smile crept across Sybil's face. "They were Anna's prayers, then."

"Impertinent child," Elsie huffed, pushing Sybil away from her. "They are _none_ of your concern!"

"Of course they're not," Sybil smoothed her skirt around her. "It doesn't matter, though. I know what she's praying for." Her smile broadened to a smirk at Elsie's outraged expression. "And because you are generous, and Anna is devoted to you, you'll grant her prayers. Neither she nor John will sleep _at all_ tomorrow night." She tossed her head, her long hair swishing against her back. "That man might start believing in the gods once his wife has had her way with him."

"I suppose it would be too much to ask _how_ you know what is in her prayers." Elsie raised her eyebrows, not wanting to let her daughter know just how right she was.

Sybil raised her eyebrows back. "Have you forgotten I shared a room with her all summer at the king's hall, and before, at the palace? She always says her prayers. Every single night. She said she could trust me to not repeat her private prayers to anyone." She pulled her legs up, and rested her chin on her knees. "And I won't."

Elsie could not hold back a smile at her cheeky grin.


	43. Morning Preparations

Shortly before dawn, Sybil walked through the meadow. The few sheep did not pay her any mind. Nor did the sleeping lads.

Freya looked up, but seeing the familiar figure pass by, turned her attention back to the animals.

The lads' fire burned low. After pouring water on it, and ensuring it was out, Sybil continued east. The rock at the source of the spring was barely visible in the grey light.

The Messenger was waiting for her.

"You are just the Tom I was looking for," she said, stepping into his waiting arms.

"Me?" He asked innocently, raising his eyebrows.

"No, Uncle Tom Cobley!" She cried.

"I won't be visible today. You know that," he murmured as they kissed, "But I will be there just as surely as the other guests are. I like weddings, too." His lips followed the curve of her neck, making her sigh.

"S-so do I," she stuttered, her breath coming faster. "Don't cause any mischief today," she warned. She pushed him back a little to look him in the eye. " _Behave_ yourself."

He gave her the cheeky grin she adored. "Do you want me to behave myself _now_?"

" _No_ ," she huffed, pulling him closer, then down onto the ground on top of her.

Neither one of them watched the dawn.

* * *

Elsie woke up with her nose touching Charles's back.

 _He must have rolled over during the night._

Growing light from the outside chased shadows into the corners of the room, and she lifted herself up onto her elbow, the blanket clinging to her shoulder. The chill in the air made her shiver a little. She pulled the blanket further around herself.

The place where Sybil had slept was empty.

Charles mumbled something in his sleep, and the sound made Elsie grin.

"Love," she breathed, running her fingers through his hair, "Wake up." She bent over him and kissed his cheek. Then his shoulder. Wrapping her arms around him, she kept kissing him, her hands rubbing his back and chest. He took a deep breath as he came out of his slumber.

"Is this a dream?" he asked. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"It is better than a dream," she whispered in his ear, giggling when he flinched a little. He rolled over with a growl.

"Your breath is bloody ticklish." His tone was annoyed, but his expression was not. She laughed again.

Before she could move, he enveloped her in his strong arms, pinning her to him. The sudden feel of his body against hers caused her to gasp. It was his turn to smirk.

"It…is…not…nice…to…laugh…at…your…husband," he said seriously. After every word, he kissed her. First her nose, then the corner of her mouth, then her lips, cheek, temple and forehead. Then another on her mouth before lifting her on top of him and leaving a lingering one beneath her chin.

His kisses made Elsie shiver again, this time with desire.

"Are you cold?" He asked, his brow furrowed. He reached for the edge of the blanket to tuck it around her, but she stopped him, shaking her head. She cupped his face in her hands.

"Charles…"

"Yes?" He rumbled, raising his eyebrows. When he used _that voice_ , it was all she could do to control herself.

She got to the point.

"Sybil is not here. It's early, and the lads are likely still sleeping. I want you," her eyes were as dark as the deep water at the lake, "And if I do not have you now, I will _never_ make it to the wedding."

He slid his hands down her body to her hips. "We can't have that. You love weddings," he managed to say before her mouth was on his.

"Yes, I do," she moaned, letting him catch his breath. "As do you."

"Fortunately-"

It was the last coherent word from either of them for some time.

The sounds of their shared passion floated through the window. Sighs, moans, cries, and pleas cascaded, one on top of the other.

He bellowed. It mingled with the tight spiral of her voice. Whether she screamed or keened, it was impossible to tell.

Sparrows woke up and chattered to each other.

Contentment spread through Elsie after their lovemaking. She lay back against the sheepskin, her chest still heaving, Charles's head resting on hers.

She hummed as they kissed. She had come to love these moments after, almost ( _almost_ ) as much as the act of their joining itself. The feel of his mouth on hers. The taste of him, of rain and wind, of alyssum. His heartbeat against her chest.

If it was up to him, if they could somehow stop time and relive the dawn again (five times, ten times, one hundred), then get up and have the entire day to enjoy everything else, _that_ would be a perfect day.

But while he tasted his wife's lips, they were interrupted by the unmistakable bleating of goats outside.

He heaved a frustrated sigh, kissed her hard one more time, and got up. The cool morning air on his glistening skin made him shiver.

She cleared her throat, admiring him. "It's colder this morning."

Glancing down at Elsie as he dressed in haste, Charles almost lost the will to do his chores.

Or to breathe.

"Yes," he said, his breath short. "But not cold enough. Why must you look like that?"

"Like what?" Elsie stretched her arms above her head and sat up, the blanket tumbling to her lap. Light streamed through the window and illumined the auburn strands of her hair that tumbled over her shoulders. Its color, set against the paleness of her skin, as well as the blush on her face and neck, combined to make her stunning.

He leaned over and gave her a short kiss. "You know very well how you look, Mistress Beautiful."

She bit back a laugh as he practically ran out of the house.

Pulling on her everyday tunic, she splashed water from the small basin over her face and on her arms.

 _The last thing you want today is to outshine the bride._

Despite not giving herself wholly to Charles when they made love, she knew she satisfied him. And he more than satisfied the woman in her. She always glowed in the aftermath.

The hidden goddess within, shining forth.

That had never happen with her previous lovers. She wondered why. Because she had been in divine form already, with nothing to hide?

 _Maybe_ , she mused, _it has nothing to do with my divinity._

She felt it had everything to do with her being loved by Charles, and loving him in return. Every woman glowed when in in love – why not her?

By the time she swept the floor, rolled up the sheepskins, and lit the fire, the sun was up. While she measured flour to bake bread, she sang an old tune often sung by the apprentices.

 _My lass with the golden hair_

 _She is a maiden fair_

 _I saw her one day_

 _A beauty rare_

 _And she smiled at me as I passed by._

 _The earth is old_

 _The wind is cold_

 _The path is dim in my eyes_

 _My lass's hair is no longer gold_

 _But white as the moon at its full…_

"What are you saying?" Charles asked, walking inside. He poured a little of the goats milk into a bowl for the cat. He grinned at Elsie when she looked up inquiringly, a smudge of flour on her nose. "That you pine for a lovely woman who once had golden hair?"

She laughed. "As tempting as that sounds, no. I heard the lads singing it, and I liked the tune."

"You didn't hear Edward or Thomas singing it," he said as she pointed to a bowl with cheese and figs inside it. He took a bit of both and ate them.

"No, but it would not surprise me if Edward knows it. He plays in the court. How many different songs does he sing? Many, I'm sure," she picked up another piece of cheese and took a bite. A moment later, Sybil appeared in the doorway. Elsie did not fail to notice her daughter's color was high.

And her black hair was wild. It was not _that_ windy outside.

It was more the glow that seemed to emanate from her that told Elsie where Sybil had been.

 _Like mother, like daughter._

"Good morning," Sybil sounded a little breathless. She smiled at Charles, and he smiled back. "I hope I didn't worry you, being gone. I took a walk."

Elsie smirked. _A walk? Then it was a very vigorous walk._ "Not at all," she set the dough in the pans, then set the pans carefully in the hot coals of the fire. "If you had not been here by the time the lads arrived, then we would've worried." She stared into the flames for a moment, but saw no one there.

 _Good._

She did not know the face she feared seeing was much more occupied in watching another's fire that morning.

The cat wound through Sybil's legs, and she picked up the animal, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur. "You must miss Daisy. And Thomas," she murmured to it, before turning to Charles. "They were awake when I came back through the meadow – at least Thomas, Edward and Alfred were. I didn't see Andy. Edward said they'd be here soon."

She was right. Shortly after, the house was crowded with four young men. Thomas still seemed half-asleep, and Andy laid his head down on the table, but Alfred and Edward were as fresh as though it was midday.

"How was it, yesterday?" Elsie asked them. "Did you all drink to John's good fortune?"

"Yes, but not as much some would like," Alfred said, devouring a hunk of cheese. "I think the king would've liked to stay longer-"

"As he said though, the _queen_ did not want him to have too much wine," Edward finished. "He told us to save room for tonight. So we did."

"Except for Master Joseph," Alfred snickered. "He was a little wobbly on his feet when we were all leaving."

"He only had one cup of wine," Charles got up from the table and shook Andy. "Lad, if you want anything to eat before the feast tonight, you'd better wake up now!"

Andy groaned and sat up. Thomas handed him a good portion of bread, while Alfred gave him some figs.

In the corner of the room behind the hanging blanket, Charles picked up the cloak Daisy had made for him at Midsummer. He glanced over it, making sure it did not have any holes or stains.

"It is fine, Daisy looked over it yesterday," Elsie murmured. "And then I washed it. Carefully."

"It does not seem fair that your cloak _never_ has holes or any signs of wear." The corners of his mouth turned up at her expression.

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, her eyes twinkling. "Someone kind gave it to me after I was nearly swept away in a flood."

"Hmph. _Very_ kind of them," He smiled. "Well, it looks better on you than it did on me." He pulled on a fresh tunic, then swung his cloak over his broad shoulders, and she worked to get the cloth to hang just so.

"It's good that I have it. I should have worked on a tunic for myself," Elsie said quietly, handing him the silver band he had won at Midsummer. She shook her head. "It can't be helped now."

"I'm sure you'll look wonderful," Charles took the band and slid it onto his arm. "Everyone will be looking at Anna, of course. Except for me."

She blushed. "Thank you for that, but it's _her_ wedding day. And John's."

* * *

 _The automatons continued working ceaselessly, the forge hot with fire and dark with smoke. But the god did not wield his hammer. It lay on a nearby table._

 _Instead, Victor crouched by the fire. Watching._

 _ **You are being silly. She doesn't know the necklace comes from you. She sees it as a gift from Mary, as you planned.**_

 _Still, he could not keep himself away._

"… _so beautiful, how can I ever thank you for this, milady?" Anna asked, her voice barely heard through the flames. She wiped her eyes. "It is far more than I ever expected."_

" _You can thank me by wearing it today," Mary said, smiling. "And at any other feast or festival you desire, for as long as you live. It's yours." She hesitated, reaching out, then took Anna's hand in her own. "Now," her voice wobbled a little, "What are you wearing today? Can you show me before the others get here?"_

 _Victor smiled as Anna showed her friend her tunic and shawl. She was happy as a bride should be, and the necklace he made for her suited her perfectly. As he had known it would._

 _He poked the fire, building it up a little, then looked in on John. The blacksmith was talking with Joseph._

"… _thank her for me. She shouldn't have gone to so much trouble," he said._

" _She insisted, and said it wasn't any trouble to make you breakfast," the wheelwright told his friend. "You've got to eat_ _something_ _. We can't have you fainting when you're supposed to say your vows! What would Anna think?"_

" _Fine," John laughed, tucking in to the food. "But I do insist on one thing. I won't have a stick to lean on. I don't want to give my bride a reason not to marry me."_

" _She would marry you even if you had to be carried to her," Joseph crossed his arms. "Every strong man and lad in the kingdom could walk right by her, and she wouldn't have them, you know that! All right," he held up his hands. "I won't argue with you…but if you need a stick to lean on later,_ tell _me, or Charles. Better to use one when you need it, rather than regret that you didn't use one later."_

" _My only regret is missing those who couldn't be here," John murmured, so softly Joseph did not hear him. He gazed into the fire, but he did not see Victor._

 _The god knew he would not. Mortals could not see into the fire as the gods could._

 _Victor picked up his hammer and went back to work. He dearly wished he could be at the wedding, but the mention of the shepherd reminded him why he was not._

 _ **The risk is too great. It would be madness to appear there, even to see my friends. Eala would see me, and all would be lost.**_

 _Still, he knew he would look into the fire again later. To get a glimpse of Anna wearing the necklace, and John's reaction._

* * *

"That is a _lovely_ color," Elsie gushed as Sybil displayed her tunic. "It's perfect for you!"

Sybil fingered the cloth lovingly. The aqua color highlighted the blue tints in her eyes. "Thank you. I thought so."

"We are leaving now," Charles called into the house. "We will see you ladies later!"

Elsie hurried to the door. She kissed him deeply before stepping back and looking him over approvingly once more. "You are very handsome, my man. _The_ most handsome, if I do say so myself."

"Thank you. But remember," he grinned, raising an eyebrow. "John should be the focus of attention, not me."

"I think I will remember that. Have Thomas and Edward left already?" she asked. Alfred and Andrew stood near the well. Sheep bawled from behind the house.

"They have. Thomas said he wanted to see Daisy this morning early. Freya and Ve are guarding the pen," he told her, and she nodded. "You said nothing will get past them, and I believe you."

"As you should." She pushed him lightly. "Go, meet with John and the others. You would not like for Robert to get there before you, would you?"

She knew him well. He left with the two apprentices, their white tunics gleaming in the morning sun.

" _We_ need to hurry. Mary has probably already been to Phyllis's and gone," Sybil rushed around her, gathering her mother's cloak, her own tunic draped over her arm. "And I'm sure Daisy and Ivy will be there early." Daisy had stayed the night with her friend.

Elsie changed into a white tunic. "Did Mary not need your help today?" She asked. It seemed strange that the king's daughter would not want Sybil with her, especially before an occasion such as a wedding.

"She did, but Madge offered to take my place, and she agreed. She knows how close Anna and I are. And after today – well, I won't get to see her very often."

"She's fond of you," Elsie commented as they walked down the hill. "Mary. I hardly think she would have agreed if you were anyone else."

"Does that make you like her more?" Sybil grinned. "Since you know she favors me?"

"Yes," Elsie's lips curved up. "It's to her credit that she's fond of you."

* * *

Thomas left Phyllis's house, darting behind it to take the path out of Downton. He knew he did not have a lot of time. Edward and Father, and maybe even the king, would wonder where he was if he took too long. The last thing he wanted to do was to draw attention to himself today.

 _She probably won't even like it. Or think you're lying when you give it to her._

 _Too late now._

Once on the main road, he was so intent on looking for Elsie he did not see the people passing him until William called hello. Half skidding to a stop, he explained to them that he'd forgotten something, and was heading back to the house.

Neither Albert nor Beryl knew if anyone was still there. "Elsie and Sybil should have left by now," Beryl told him. "They told me they were going to dress at Phyllis's house, and help Anna get ready."

Thomas thanked them before hurrying on. There was something about Elsie's friend that unsettled him. Maybe it was that she looked like she knew what he was thinking? Or maybe it was that he couldn't shake the notion that he had seen her before. He had no idea where, though.

William irritated him. But even he knew that had more to do with the fact that Edward had enjoyed talking with the tall, blond man the evening before. Thomas was fairly certain William had no feelings for his mate, but he could not stop the sharp stab of jealousy.

 _Steady on! Edward loves_ _you_ _._

To his relief, he saw Elsie and Sybil walking towards Downton shortly after leaving the others behind. He met them just where the path to Eala's shrine broke away from the main road.

"Did you forget something?" Sybil asked as he caught his breath. She smiled at him.

"Yes," he panted, his hands on his hips.

"What was it?"

He stared at her. It was obvious she knew _he_ was up to something. But he did not want to tell her anything. "N-none of your business," he stammered. She raised her eyebrows, but simply kept walking, whistling as she went.

"Don't let us keep you, then," she called.

Elsie moved to follow her, but Thomas stopped her. "Wait."

"What is it, Thomas?" She asked, arching an eyebrow. "I don't mean to be rude, but we have to meet Anna. Soon."

She had not been alone with him since he had learned the truth about Sybil. The last thing she wanted was for him to start an argument with her the morning of John and Anna's wedding.

His face went red, and he looked over his shoulder to see if Sybil was watching. She was not. "I…this is for you," he fished out the scallop shell necklace from the pouch that hung from his belt, and handed it to her.

Holding it in her hands, Elsie gazed at the necklace. The shells were all identical sizes, or nearly so. Great care had been taken to choose them for their size as well as their shape. None were broken or cracked.

"This is beautiful," she said low, feeling tears in her eyes. "These came from the beach, didn't they? Near Staithes."

He nodded, pleased that she liked it so well. It surprised him a little. She seemed the sort of woman who would like gold or silver, not a simple shell necklace.

She held it up, silently asking him a question, and he hung it around her neck.

 _It is a_ _very_ _good thing I am not attracted to women._

The necklace looked even more beautiful on her.

"Why didn't Charles give me this himself?" she asked. "Did he forget? I did hurry him along earlier," she dabbed at the corner of her eye, smiling.

Her questions crushed Thomas's self-confidence, and for a moment, he wanted to disappear. "He doesn't know about it," he said, his face aflame. He scuffed his sandaled foot in the dirt road. "He didn't make it."

Elsie closed her eyes, mortified at her mistake. _Why did I not see?_

"But _you_ did," she said quietly.

He nodded, keeping his head down. _I knew it was wrong. Why did I ever think of making her something?_

"Thomas," she took his wrist, "It was a lovely thing to do. It's one of the nicest things anyone has ever given me. Thank you."

He felt a little better at her tone, and looked up. Her eyes were warm. "You're welcome. Ever since Loftus, I…was trying to think of something to give you. A peace offering."

Laughing, Elsie touched the necklace, clicking the shells together. "Is that what this is? I should give _you_ something _._ I'm in your debt – you got into a fight to rescue me, and now you've given me this wonderful gift!"

He turned and started walking with her back to Downton, both at a fairly quick pace. "I'm sure you'll think of something. Despite appearances, I don't want a lot."

"I _can_ see that," she squeezed his wrist and let go. "You didn't really forget something at home, did you?" she teased.

"No," he admitted. "But I did not want to give you that with others watching. It's…personal. Don't tell Father where it came from," he said suddenly, turning to her. He knew Daisy would know where it came from, and Sybil was far too perceptive to see anything but the truth. "Tell him Daisy made it, or you did it yourself. Please."

"Why?" Elsie asked. Sybil was a little ways in front of them. "He would be happy to know you made this for me."

"I doubt it," Thomas muttered. "He'd think I was trying to bribe you to like me, and that I didn't really mean it."

"Don't you think he knows you better than that?"

"I haven't given him much reason to believe I mean what I say."

 _My own arrogance has been the cause of the divide between us._

"But he does believe you," Elsie told him. "You and your father argue, and have your differences, yes. But he trusts you. He loves you."

 _As do I_ , her heart whispered. She saw he was aware what she was thinking. Saw his discomfort.

 _He is not ready to hear it._

"I will tell him something," she said reluctantly, shaking her head. "What, I do not know right now."

"Thank you," he breathed a sigh of relief. "I should go, the men are waiting and Edward doesn't know where I've gone-"

"See you later," she said, smiling at his regard for his mate. She watched him run down the road past Sybil.

* * *

Phyllis's house rang with laughter. Daisy, Ivy, and Sybil giggled in one corner. Remme lay at Daisy's feet, her tail thumping on the floor. Phyllis braided Anna's hair, weaving it into a pattern around her head. Elsie sat and watched her in fascination.

"I have always worn mine down," she said, her arms hugging her knees. "Until Sybil came along, I never thought of doing it any differently."

"Your hair always looks good down," her daughter said. "Not everyone is so fortunate!"

"Anna, I think _your_ hair is beautiful when it's down," Daisy's eyes shone. "Why didn't you keep it like that?"

"Because I wanted it up today," the bride said. Her eyes sparkled. "And Phyllis can do anything with hair." She fingered the woven gold necklace at her throat.

"You are better at it than I am," insisted Phyllis. "If you could do yours yourself, you would have!"

Elsie raised an eyebrow. "You don't fool me," she said in a low voice to Anna. "But I don't blame you in the slightest – your husband should be the one to enjoy your hair when it's down, and no one else."

Anna blushed, smiling brilliantly. Phyllis squeezed her shoulder, letting her know she was finished. She reached up and felt the pattern of her braids.

It was not often she felt beautiful, let alone _know_ she was. But of any day, it should be her wedding day that she should feel so, she thought. Her brilliant blue shawl matched her eyes, and was a nice contrast to her soft white tunic.

"Thank you," she grinned at Phyllis, who stood up. "For this, and for everything else you've done." She looked at Elsie. "And thank you, too. For the feast yesterday, for my tunic. For listening to me." They shared smiles.

"You're welcome. Isn't she the most beautiful bride?" Elsie asked the others. They all answered emphatically yes.

"Look at all of you!" Anna cried. "Look at all the color! Phyllis, the burnt orange is perfect on you! And Ivy, with your pale blue…Sybil, I can't tell if that's more blue or green, but you look _so_ pretty," she paused as the dark-haired young woman gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Daisy, aren't you glad Elsie surprised you with the lavender tunic? I hope you are, because it's _perfect_ for you!"

"I am, thanks," Daisy showed her dimples. "I _still_ can't believe she managed to keep it a surprise, or that Phyllis did, either!" She looked down at herself, twirling in a circle. The large shell she had collected on the beach hung around her neck.

The other two laughed. "It was worth it," Elsie hugged her. "Just to see how happy you were. I was so afraid you saw me buy the cloth in Staithes, but you didn't!"

"It's nearly time to go," Sybil announced, opening the door a little and peering outside. "Mother, you need to get ready. You're the last one not dressed."

"Oh," Elsie gestured at her tunic. "This is what I'm wearing. This, and the cloak, of course. That will be my color for the day."

An impish grin crossed Daisy's face, and she and Sybil glanced at each other. "Oh, you're not _really_ wearing that, are you? You wear that every day! You have to have something better."

Elsie shook her head, and was about to say something (she wasn't sure what), when Phyllis opened a wooden box and pulled out a ravishing green tunic. "Is that…what…is that for _me?_ " She sputtered. Everyone burst into laughter, including Anna.

"You should have known Phyllis would keep _all_ the secrets," she laughed.

"I never keep them alone," Phyllis grinned at Daisy. "I only helped your daughters make this, Elsie."

"You and I _both_ bought cloth in Staithes," Daisy bounced on her toes, gleeful. "And I didn't know _you_ had, and _you_ didn't know I had…until today!"

"Phyllis didn't tell me she was helping you with Daisy's tunic," Sybil broke in. "That was a surprise to me."

Elsie held the tunic in her hands. She shook her head, smiling at Daisy and Sybil. "You two dears! I will always wonder if you're up to something after this. _Thank_ you!"

"Oh, we will be," Sybil put an arm around Daisy. "You're welcome, Mother."

Changing quickly from her clean, but everyday tunic, Elsie's heart was full as she put on her girls' gift. It was exactly the shade she liked. It matched with her dark blue cloak as well. The shells hanging from her neck clicked together as she pulled on her skirt.

 _Gifts from all of our children!_

She took a shaky breath, trying to keep her emotion at bay. "Well," she emerged from behind the blanket to meet the others. "I'm ready to go now, unless there's something else you all are hiding from me!"

"There's nothing else," Anna stood up, her hands clasped, her eyes shining. "Though I think I may ask the Goddess for _more_ beauty today. No one will know I'm the bride! You look stunning, Elsie."

Coming from any other woman, there would have been jealousy. But not from Anna.

"Thank you," Elsie embraced her warmly, before putting her cloak on. "But _everyone_ will know who the bride is today."

They emerged from Phyllis's house into the sunshine. A crowd of women, including Mary and the queen, were waiting there. They walked with Anna as she went to meet John.

 **A/N: Sigh. This was meant to be the wedding chapter, but too many people had too many things to say. The next chapter is the wedding - I promise!**


	44. Gift

**A/N: It is an understatement to say there's been a lot going on. In my life, as well as in this chapter.**

 **As for this story, like so many times, a chapter was written that just. Kept. Getting. Longer. John and Anna's wedding is one of those rare times when everyone is together. People interact that wouldn't normally do so.**

 **Characters kept insisting on having conversations. And if you haven't already guessed, I have a hard time saying no.**

 **So this is the first of three chapters that will be posted today. Yes, three. It was either that, or one huge chapter.**

 **There is dancing in this chapter, and more in the next two. So this is also in response to chelsie-prompts challenge "Dancing". Love when that happens!**

 **The song "Through Heaven's Eyes" has been on my mind for this wedding since the beginning. Some of the lyrics are below. Brian Stokes Mitchell is always good for inspiration.**

 **I can't thank you all enough for reading this story! Your support, comments and reviews truly mean everything to me.**

 **Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

* * *

 _ **A single thread in a tapestry**_

 _ **Though its color brightly shine**_

 _ **Can never see its purpose**_

 _ **In the pattern of the grand design**_

 _ **And the stone that sits on the very top**_

 _ **Of the mountain's mighty face**_

 _ **Does it think it's more important**_

 _ **Than the stones that form the base?**_

 _ **So how can you see what your life is worth**_

 _ **Or where your value lies?**_

 _ **You can never see through the eyes of man**_

 _ **You must look at your life**_

 _ **Look at your life through heaven's eyes…**_

 _ **No life can escape being blown about**_

 _ **By the winds of change and chance**_

 _ **And though you never know all the steps**_

 _ **You must learn to join the dance**_

 _ **You must learn to join the dance…**_

* * *

The river that marked Downton's eastern side was shallow, the river banks broad and flat. Near the center of the village, where the banks were at their broadest, was where the competition was held every Midsummer. North of the village, however, the river narrowed. A grove of trees grew on the bank near Richard's house.

It was in the grove where John and a group of men gathered, waiting for Anna.

The bridegroom sat on a stump, surrounded by his friends. It did not seem right to him to sit while the king was standing, but Robert had waved off his concern.

"You'll be standing later. Never mind that now."

Thomas had held George on his shoulders for a while, until the boy wanted to get down. The king's grandson then ran around with several of the village boys. They weaved in and out among the men.

"That will be you soon," Charles said to Joseph. They watched two young brothers, who were grabbed and chastised by their father after he had repeatedly told them to _stop tripping each other!_ Joseph shook his head, his arms crossed.

"It seems hard to imagine _one_ underfoot, much less more than that," he said. "From what Phyllis has told me, they don't do much of anything at the beginning except eat and sleep."

"Sounds like a nice life," John said drily, his hands on his knees. Charles and Joseph laughed.

John smiled as Robert called George over to him. The king scooped up his grandson, and talked with Richard and Harold, who was the young boys' father, for a while.

He could hardly believe it was his wedding day. His, and Anna's. _Mum, you would have loved her._

It was not his choice to make their vows in front of everyone. To him, even having a priestess there was not necessary. But it was what Anna wanted.

And really, after the king and Lady Mary found out about their betrothal, was it likely he and Anna would have been able to simply promise themselves to each other, alone? He grinned to himself.

 _No._

Anna would look splendid in whatever she wore, and he would look like a fool next to her, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that they would be together for the rest of their lives.

He swallowed, feeling his belly flutter with nerves. A small breeze rustled the yellowing leaves above him. Several cascaded down. He ran a hand through his hair, not wanting to have a leaf stuck there.

Thomas and Edward stood nearer the edge of the grove.

"It couldn't be a more beautiful day," Thomas murmured, squinting above them at the flecks of blue sky that appeared through the trees. "Anna deserves this, she really does."

Edward dipped his head a little, his chin brushing Thomas's shoulder. "I'm glad for her, too. And John. It's a good sign. Have you thought-" he began, then looked behind them to see if anyone was close. "Have you thought about the day _we_ make our vows?" He whispered. "Would you rather be the one waiting for me, or do you want to come find me?"

Thomas smoothed his hair down. "I couldn't be the one waiting," he said, blunt. "Someone would have to tie me to a tree to keep me upright. I'm getting nervous _now_ , waiting for Anna to get here, and it's not even _my_ wedding!"

Edward laughed quietly. "Then I'll be the one waiting for you." He leaned a little closer, his eyes drifting to Thomas's lips.

Despite his own hesitation, Thomas did not back away.

 _We cannot. Not here, not now. Everyone will see us._

 _I don't care._

They moved closer…

A boy above them in a tree bellowed suddenly.

" _The bride is coming!_ "

Edward pulled up, then steadied himself, holding onto Thomas's shoulder. They laughed together at their almost-stolen moment, then hurried along with several others to the edge of the grove.

" _The bride is coming!_ "

The call echoed from tree to tree, through the crowd gathered beneath them. John's heart leaped, and he stood up. Charles clasped his shoulder, smiling, his eyes gleaming.

"May the Goddess bless you both," he said, before going to join the rest of the men.

Robert shook John's hand. "I am not as devout as Charles, as you know," he said, "But I do pray for you and Anna to have every happiness in the world. I'm delighted for you, my friend."

"Thank you, milord."

A crowd of women and girls drew nearer to the grove. At first, it was hard for John to tell what they were doing. They were constantly moving, the large mass together, in a circle. At the same time, they moved slowly forward. He could see every color imaginable. He caught a glimpse of Lady Mary, who wore a purple tunic, and the queen, who wore a rich red.

Isobel and Violet walked in front of the women. The former wore a tunic of deep pink, but the latter wore her usual white. The king's mother did, however, wear a soft yellow shawl draped over her shoulders.

The boys and young men who had been shouting as the women approached quieted as they entered the grove, and parted to let them through. Thomas and Edward made their way over to Alfred, who stood near Charles. Thomas wondered where Andy was, then looked up to see him sitting in a tree. He bit back a laugh.

 _We can't all be like Alfred_. The red-headed shepherd's apprentice towered over almost everyone else, with a clear view of what went on.

The women continued moving ceaselessly, humming a wordless tune that floated on the air. William sat in a tree, lightly playing a small harp. He raised his eyebrows at Edward, who nodded back.

"He offered to play for me," Edward whispered to Thomas. "Last night. It was nice of him, to let me be able to watch the wedding with you. Hearing him play, I don't think Anna or John will mind at all. He's very good. Better than me."

Thomas felt his face grow warm. He was ashamed of himself. _And you were jealous of him. All he was doing was being nice to Edward – and to you!_

"I don't know about him being a better with the harp than you, but I'll have to thank him later," he murmured.

He would never tell Edward, but William was _definitely_ more talented than his mate. And that was saying something.

The lovely music in the trees was enchanting, but John craned his neck, trying to see through the kaleidoscope of color in front of him. He saw Daisy, May, Alfred's aunt Sarah…Elsie, in a striking green tunic paired with her blue cloak, Ivy, Lady Mary, Isobel… _where IS she!?_

The women slowed as they approached him, the circle opening up. Until finally their murmured song drifted away and a single woman stepped out from the center of the circle.

Anna.

She was _stunning_.

Her golden hair reflected the sunlight peeking through the trees above. It crowned her head almost like a halo. Her tunic was white, which on anyone else would have looked plain, but on Anna, his bride, it was perfect. Her blue shawl matched her eyes, and his mother's bracelet hung gracefully from her right wrist.

The golden necklace around her neck, its finely woven chain, resembled the rushing water of the river nearby. He wondered where it had come from, but marveled more at how perfectly it lay across her collarbone.

As if it belonged nowhere but there.

John took a shuddering gasp and had to step sideways to regain his balance. His expression, usually reserved except around his closest friends, radiated happiness that was palpable.

 _From this day and for the rest of our lives, we will be together._

Anna ached to touch John's soft dark hair as she approached him. His broad shoulders, strong arms, and gentle hands. He wore a dark green cloak that only half-hid his new white tunic. She noticed he had no stick, nothing to lean on in case his leg made him stumble, but it only made her proud of him. That he would want to _stand_ with her, with nothing to hold on to. Except her.

 _We'll hold on to each other, now and always._

Their eyes met at the same time as their hands found each other, and they burst out laughing out of sheer joy. Anna's fingers trembled. She bound her left hand to John's right with the vine she had cut earlier.

John was shaking with an overwhelming sense of elation. He hardly knew how his feet stayed on the ground.

Two temple girls stood on either side of the couple, holding small lit oil lamps.

"Shall we begin?" Isobel asked. The priestess smiled when the bride and groom turned to her in surprise. They both looked as though they had forgotten anyone else was there.

* * *

The crowd mingled together, families and friends having come together after the women had arrived. Thomas, Edward, Sybil, Daisy, Alfred and Ivy were bunched together underneath Andy's tree. Remme first lay at Daisy's feet, but got up and wandered to the front of the crowd. She lay down next to the butcher's children, who petted her.

Elsie stood on Charles's left. She was glad to have a mostly unblocked view of the bridal couple.

"Where did you get that tunic?" Charles whispered, his arm brushing against hers. "The color is wonderful on you. It is beautiful…and so are you," his eyes gleamed.

Smiling, she glanced up at him from under the hood of her cloak. "From our daughters. They made it for me."

"A lovely gift! And the necklace? Those shells…" He reached for them, but she shushed him, gesturing at John and Anna, reminding him of why they were there in the first place.

Isobel began with a prayer, and then the couple exchanged their vows.

"I ask you, Anna, to take me into your heart as your husband, into your home as your man, into your body as your lover. I vow to love you as I love myself, to always cherish your beauty both within and without, and to bring you pleasure before satisfying my own…"

"I receive you, John, into my heart as your wife, into my home as your woman, into my body as your lover. I vow to love you as I love myself, to always treasure your heart, and to bring you joy in our bed…"

Elsie felt all the strength of their bond, of the words they shared. But it reminded her of a day not too long past when she had said those same words herself. Her eyes shimmering, she glanced at Charles. He turned and took her hand.

 _I remember, too. I will always remember the night we married._

Isobel prayed to Eala, before giving Anna and John a final blessing. It, too, was familiar.

"Let no angry words, misdeeds, or any person come between you. Beauty and fruitfulness fade, but your vows remain. Remember that love unites you."

Elsie squeezed Charles's hand.

The newlyweds beamed at each other. "Wife," John said, feeling as though his heart would beat right out of his chest. Anna blushed under the heat of his gaze. She did not look away, not even as she untangled the vine from their intertwined arms.

"Husband." There was a spark in her eyes that made John love her more, almost as though she was about to laugh. But it was simply joy, Anna's joy in _him_ that overwhelmed him.

 _I will do anything to make her happy._

They kissed for a long time, not minding the storm of cheering around them. John held Anna close, his hands at her waist, and Anna ran her fingers into his hair. Remme sprang to her feet and barked. The newlyweds glanced at her, laughed, and kissed again. Sparrows flew out of the branches above William, and spiraled in the air.

The small flames in the oil lamps danced. In the bright light of day, not one person saw the god watching.

Victor smiled at the happiness before him.

 _May you have a long and joyful life together, my friends._

* * *

It was an old tradition that when a wedding feast was given, no one was turned away. This often meant that families and friends of newlyweds had to endure masses of guests, some of whom they didn't even know. Many tried to remedy this by posting guards to keep unwelcome people out.

However, since the king was giving John and Anna's wedding feast, this was not a concern. Most of Downton, along with some visitors who had come early for the Harvest Festival, attended. There were some guards on duty around the village. But they were there to make sure nothing marred the day like what had happened at Midsummer.

Along the riverbank, tables groaned with food. Bearers with baskets carried more to the waiting guests when the tables began to be cleared of food. There seemed to be a never-ending supply of wine. It had been brought from the hall as a gift for John and Anna.

"It all seems a bit much for a simple blacksmith and his wife. I hope they won't be putting on airs after today," Sarah muttered. She glanced at the happy couple. Anna giggled, feeding John a bite of honey cake.

"They'd be the last ones to be like that. _You_ know that," Alfred said thickly through a mouthful of roasted lamb. Ivy frowned at him, and he hastily swallowed. "Even if they were, you wouldn't see them. They'll be living here in the village and you'll be with Her Ladyship. If His Lordship wanted to be generous, who would say no to him? Not you!"

His aunt snorted, but said nothing else. Alfred did notice she ate every crumb of her cake. And each time the cup bearers offered wine, she received more.

Charles and Elsie sat laughing, sitting at the end of a long table. Charles wiped his eyes.

"I had no idea she was so funny," he murmured to his wife. "Beryl. Rather cheeky and rude, but she _does_ have a particular wit."

Elsie patted him on the back and wrapped a casual arm around his broad shoulders. "I'm glad you've found your sense of humor. Or is this merely the wine talking?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I _am_ capable of laughing without a cup of wine in my hand." He lifted his own towards Beryl as Richard and Isobel, sitting next to him, did the same. "But it may be a little of this excellent wine as well."

Sybil talked with William softly, the two deep in conversation. Elsie wondered if they were talking about Tom, or herself. Or – her heart skipped – maybe they were trying to speak together while they could, before William and his parents would leave. Neither she nor Sybil knew how long it would be before they would see their friends again.

 _Let's enjoy the time together while we have it._

Albert had been conversing with Thomas and Edward. Charles was a little surprised to see him then turn to Daisy. But the hidden god and the shepherd's daughter seemed to get on well, despite the fact they had nothing in common. Daisy smiled a lot, and Albert laughed at something she said, before giving her a warm hug. Beryl then joined in their conversation, and their laughter bubbled into the cool air.

Charles had not seen Richard for quite some time.

"It's just how things are," the healer said to him and Elsie. "Some seasons are busier than others. Of course, I prefer it when I have less to do. This summer I've seen more animals than people. Praise the gods."

"If farmers and shepherds don't know what is wrong with their cattle or sheep, they send for him," Isobel smiled proudly. "Just after the last quarter-moon, the farmer Kenneth sent his son running to find him. Kenneth's daughter was convinced her cat was on the brink of death."

"As it is, she safely delivered six kittens not long after I arrived," Richard grinned. "Rosie was delighted."

Before the wine had seriously begun flowing, the toasts began. The king himself went first, lifting his cup to the newlyweds. Robert spoke of John in particular with great warmth, as did Joseph who followed him. The wheelwright was clearly nervous to address such a large and illustrious group, but he gave a fine tribute to his friend.

Lady Mary then stood and raised her cup. Her words to Elsie seemed rather bland, but when she spoke of Anna, everyone could hear her affection for her former servant. There was no doubt the women were friends. Regardless of their differences.

"Are you going to toast them? Since there were two for John, there should be at least one more for Anna," Isobel leaned forward, looking at Elsie as the king's daughter sat down. "I would do so, but since it was you who planned her feast…"

Elsie ran her fingers along her cup. She had not prepared to make a toast, but she could and would do so all the same. She gathered her thoughts for a moment. As she stood, however, a clear voice behind her spoke up.

"I would like to honor the bride and groom."

A striking young woman with vibrant red hair stood at a table further back. Anna gasped and leaped to her feet in shock.

" _Gwen!?_ "

She raced to the woman, nearly knocking her over. John stayed sitting. He wore a smile, recognition dawning on his face.

Elsie sat down, her heart brimming with happiness for Anna.

 _Someone else who cares for her is here._

As everyone else turned to look at Anna and Gwen, who hugged, laughing and crying in equal measure, Sybil met Elsie's eyes.

 _Did you do this?_

Elsie shook her head a little and raised her eyebrows.

 _Did you?_

Her daughter mouthed "no" back to her. Both goddesses were telling the truth. Sybil, however, had an inkling that _someone_ knew Anna's old friend needed to be in Downton in time for her wedding.

And she was quite certain she knew who it was.

 _Well done, Tom!_

"Gwen's husband's a farmer," William whispered. He smiled, watching the two friends. "A good man, her John. Always says his prayers."

Anna introduced Gwen to the curious crowd. They had grown up together, living as neighbors until Gwen's family moved away.

"I never forgot her," Gwen said, teary-eyed. "She was like a sister to me. She still is…thank the gods my husband and I came to Downton this morning. You can all imagine my surprise when we found out who was getting married!"

She cleared her throat, then picked up her cup. "May your days together be many, your children laugh often, and your cups never be empty of wine. May the gods smile on you always, and your bed never be cold. And," she raised an eyebrow as several people tittered, "John, if you ever make her cry, you will have _me_ to deal with. Maybe you have little fear of the gods, but you should fear me!"

John raised his cup, smiling, and everyone else followed his lead.

"That's not very reverent," Charles whispered to Elsie. She drank from her cup, nonchalant.

"She speaks the truth. He doesn't believe in the divine, you know that," she muttered. "But Gwen would remove his head from his neck if he ever hurt Anna…which he never will. Fortunately."

Some of the guests more inclined to eat or drink stayed seated as the day wore on. Joining them were some of the older guests, as well as the very young. As the sun glowed orange in the west, however, more and more people stood along the river. There, several musicians gathered to play.

Women and men danced separately first. As the women got together, Anna gestured Elsie over to her.

"Gwen, this is Elsie," she said brightly. "The woman who wrote to Lady Mary and planned my feast. She's married to Charles, a shepherd."

Gwen's eyes widened in awe before she collected herself. "Mistress," she said, shaking Elsie's hand, "Thank you so much for your kindness to Anna. She deserves all the happiness in the world! If I would have been here sooner, I would have helped you."

"I'm sure you would have," Elsie replied warmly. "But I know Anna is overjoyed to have you here today."

"That I am," Anna linked her arm through Gwen's. "I told _my_ John you being here is the best wedding gift I could have!"

They talked for a few moments. The musicians began to play, and the women all got into a big circle. Next to them, the men did the same.

"I see the king convinced John to dance," Gwen said as she and Anna walked to one side of their circle.

"He did," the bride laughed. "Along with Joseph and Charles. My husband promised to dance with me once later on, so they shouldn't make him dance with the men for too long."

"Who _is_ the shepherdess?" Gwen asked, dropping her voice. Isobel was on her right, and Daisy was on Anna's left. "I mean, other than your friend. She seems very kind, but I've never seen anyone like her. She's… _beautiful_. John – mine, not yours," she grinned, "Kept staring at her. At least until I nudged him to get him to stop. Then he was so sorry I couldn't be angry with him."

"And you shouldn't be," Anna said as they began to dance, moving to their right. "There's hardly a man, and probably not a few women, who would have a difficult time _not_ staring at her. As for who she is, she moved here early in the spring to watch flocks south of Downton. Charles fell in love with her-"

"Of course he did," Gwen turned her head to glance at the men dancing in their circle.

"-and she fell in love with him. They've been inseparable since they married at Midsummer. If I look at John with half as much love as Elsie looks at Charles, I'll be keeping my marriage vows quite nicely."

"Don't worry, you do," chuckled Gwen. "You would be the last to dishonor the Divine Lady."

In the men's circle, Robert supported John on one side, with Charles on the other.

"I'm not entirely lame," John joked as everyone linked arms. Robert laughed, red spots on his face.

"No one said you were," Charles stepped to the beat of the drum. "I'm glad you agreed to join in for a little while. It doesn't give anyone an excuse _not_ to dance!"

He could see all around the wide circle. Most were men from Downton. Men he knew. He bit his lip to keep from laughing at Alfred, who kept looking at his feet, or Andrew, who was out of step but didn't seem to care. Richard had to keep sidestepping to avoid Joseph's feet. Even from a distance, Charles could see the wheelwright apologizing to the healer for his clumsiness.

It was no surprise to Charles that Edward was an excellent dancer. His heart filled with joy to see Thomas laughing next to his mate.

 _My boy looks happier than I have seen him in a long time. Praise the gods._

As the men moved to their right, continuing the circle, Thomas wondered if he'd had too much wine. He felt light. Almost giddy.

But he knew it was not the wine.

Despite all the changes that had happened in the spring and summer, despite his misgivings about Elsie and Father, and the hurt he had felt about Sybil not telling him she was Elsie's daughter, he knew he was happy. A large part of his happiness was Edward. He knew Sybil was on his side as well.

Another source of his contentment was Daisy. He felt closer to her than ever before. Her growing up had a lot to do with it, he guessed.

 _This day is a gift. For Anna and John. And for all of us._

 _Mother would have enjoyed today, and she would be happy to know I enjoyed it, too._

For the first time since her death, he allowed himself to be happy, rather than looking for a reason not to be.

Andy bumped against him on his left as they slowed. "Sorry," the tall apprentice apologized. "I haven't done this before."

"No harm done," Thomas grinned. He touched him on the shoulder, steadying him. "You're not as clumsy as Joseph. We've come to the end of our part, anyway."

The group of men bunched closer together, John in the middle of them. They got closer and closer until there was no more room to move before they broke apart all shouting at the same time, their arms in the air. The sound drowned out the musicians. The men then gathered near the circle of women.

In the center Anna danced, beaming.

Several women left the circle, joining the men. The smaller circle of women, including Isobel, Elsie and Gwen, linked hands as the bride continued to dance in the middle. Thomas found himself standing next to John and Edward. Lady Mary approached them.

"Did you know Anna could dance like that?" she asked John, her eyes wide.

"No, milady, I didn't," he replied, his eyes shining as he watched his wife.

"She's _marvelous_."

"Yes. Yes she is," John murmured.

Thomas exchanged a glance with Edward. His mate reached over and squeezed his hand.

John walked past the two young men and tapped on Elsie's shoulder. She and Sybil allowed him through the circle. Anna, still dancing, held out her hands. John kissed them, one after the other, then they twirled, their arms around each other. The rest of the women moved away, joining the others watching.

A man playing an aulos changed the tune. The music slowed as the newlyweds danced, forgetting everyone around them. John lifted Anna in his arms, holding her aloft. They kissed, embracing, then he set her down. Kissing her hand once more, he then held it out.

Thomas gave a slight bow, then began to dance with Anna.

"I know you'd rather dance with another man, and not me," he said, "But I hope I'm not too big of a disappointment."

"You know you aren't," she replied. "I danced with my husband first, and that's enough for me. I wouldn't want him to be in pain because of me." She smiled over Thomas's shoulder at John, who sat on a large stump. He winked at her.

"You love to dance, and he knows it." Thomas twirled her in a circle before drawing her closer again.

"I do love it. I always have, ever since I was a child." Hearing the tempo increase, they moved in time to the music.

"That's good, because there are a lot of people waiting to dance with you. If you want to stop for a while, let me or Edward know, and we'll make sure you have a breather." He kissed her on the cheek and stepped back. Edward stepped into his place.

Around them, the ground filled up with others dancing. Joseph found his feet, his earlier stumbling forgotten. He lifted Phyllis a little in his arms, and she laughed when he twirled her around.

"You see? _I_ knew you had a gift for it," she told him, hanging on to him. He shrugged.

"Dancing with the men isn't something I like. I like dancing with _you._ " He stopped when she did, his eyes widening when she gasped and bent over. People swirled around them. His fingers brushed her cheek. "What's the matter? Is something wrong? Are you-"

"No," she breathed, taking his hands. She placed them on her belly. "Nothing's wrong." Her eyes shone.

" _Ohhh_ …" he sucked in a breath. She nearly cried at the expression on his face. Shock, understanding, joy. He swallowed, then met her eyes. "Someone else likes to dance." His eyebrows furrowed. "That _is_ what I'm feeling – isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," she laughed with tears in her eyes. "I felt the baby earlier, but I…wasn't sure."

 _Now I am._

They embraced. Daisy smiled at them as she and Thomas danced by.

"Master Joseph dances with his wife, and he looks good doing it," she nodded in the wheelwright's direction. "Maybe it was just dancing in the circle that made him awkward."

"Maybe," her brother commented. "I'm just glad he hasn't stepped on Phyllis's feet!"

Robert and Cora danced among the crowd. The king whispered something in his wife's ear, and she laughed.

Charles watched them fondly. _It is good to see them happy together._

There had been rumors in the past of the king having a roving eye. It would not surprise him if they were true, but he hoped they were not.

He crossed his arms, walking along the riverbank, as Albert and Beryl whirled by him. He wanted to dance with Elsie, but she was dancing with William. Richard and Isobel were near them. The priestess leaned her head on Richard's shoulder. Charles raised his eyebrows at that.

"You don't approve," Violet said. "Of my cousin and the healer." She held George's hand while Mary walked on her other side. The king's daughter's dark eyes twinkled, a small smile hovering on her lips.

"Only because of her position," Charles inhaled through his nose. He bowed in Mary and George's direction, and Mary bowed her head back. "I know the servants of the gods are permitted to share in romances, especially those of Eala, but as she has taken holy vows should she not be more careful? Everyone looks to her and to you as models of behavior."

Mary raised her eyebrows. "Are you talking about Granny?"

Violet burst out laughing at the same time. "Oh dear, have you forgotten the stories that were told of me?" she chortled. "In my wild and dissolute youth?"

The shepherd wondered if she was making fun of him. "No, but that was before-"

"-before I married, before my husband died, and I took vows," the priestess finished, shaking her head. "Shepherd, if every servant of the gods was measured by their personal behavior, there would soon be no one to serve at the shrines or in the temples. The gods demand perfection, true, but they are also aware of our failings." She glanced down at George. "That is why we praise them so. Because they show us mercy."

"Besides, it's not as though Isobel has taken up with a horse thief, or is found with different men every quarter-moon," Mary watched her mother-in-law dance happily. "Richard is quite respectable." George lifted his arms to her, and she picked him up. "Darling, would you like to dance?" she asked her small son, beginning to sway back and forth with the music. He clapped his hands. She laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "I would. Your father used to dance with me…" She moved away from her grandmother and Charles, still chattering with George.

Violet wiped at the corner of her eye. "She is herself again. Or at least mostly herself, thank the gods. There will be a part of her that will always miss Matthew."

"Of course. Will she marry again?" Charles asked. "What does the king say?"

"She must, and will, marry again," Violet said softly. "Soon. She knows this. Robert and Cora know it, of course. But any future alliance will be much more difficult to come by than the first. The kingdom has its heir already. There will not be many rulers or king's sons willing to take a wife who has virtually nothing to offer. I do not say this as a slight on my granddaughter," she folded her hands over her walking stick. "I only speak the truth."

"Just so." He pressed his lips together. He had no doubt that Lady Mary knew all of what Violet said. It did not mean he agreed with it. He returned to the question that nagged him. "But it is expected of her to get married. Isobel is a priestess. She _cannot_ marry."

"What would you propose? That she take her heart and lock it away, never to be seen again, all because she is a priestess?" Violet asked. "No. Love is a part of us. It does not end, even when those we love leave us. Isobel has a generous heart. And were you in my place, would _you_ tell her she cannot love him?"

Charles shook his head, laughing under his breath. "I would not have the courage to try."

"No, I thought not." The evening sky glowed behind them. Elsie approached them, shading her hand over her eyes. Charles could not take his eyes from her. How her tunic complimented her bright hair, the way her cloak outlined the curve of her hips.

"Ah, there you are," Violet smiled at her. "Dance with your husband. I've shocked him, I believe."

Elsie took Charles's hand and led him back to the crowd. She wore a smirk on her face.

"You already know," he muttered, smoothing his hands around her waist. "What we were talking about."

"Only because I know you so well, not because I was using divine power to listen to your conversation." She shook her head. Her hand was warm through his tunic. "Really, Charles – I would have thought you would be less judgmental by now." Her eyes sparkled as she fought back a laugh. "But then, you are the way you are. If you were _really_ judgmental, I wouldn't love you half as much as I do."

She regretted saying it as soon as the words left her mouth. Not because it wasn't true, but because seeing her handsome husband and dancing with him was enough to make her heart race.

 _I do love you so very much. If we were alone…_

"H-how much is that?" He managed to stammer. The way she felt in his arms, not to mention the way she looked at him, made him forget everything else. She was flush against him. They slowed their movements until they stopped altogether.

One of the king's servants, holding a torch, lit a bonfire behind Charles. It blazed with sudden intensity.

Elsie flinched, tearing her eyes away from her husband. She squeezed his arm. "Come with me," she murmured, pushing his hands from her waist. At his questioning eyes, she nodded at the fire. "Not _here_."

They walked out of the dancing crowd, past the tables where some wedding guests still ate and drank.

 **TBC…**


	45. Dances and Matches

**A/N: STOP! IF YOU HAVE NOT READ CHAPTER 44, GO BACK AND READ IT FIRST. THIS IS THE SECOND CHAPTER POSTED TODAY.**

* * *

Darkness fell as they reached the now-empty grove where John and Anna had made their vows. Every moment it became darker. The sun was setting in earnest. The yellow leaves above them glowed.

Charles nearly walked into his wife when she stopped. He put his hands on his shoulders to steady her when she stumbled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Kiss me," she whispered, turning around, not caring that he'd trod on her heels. She pulled on the front of his tunic. "Kiss me, _please_."

His mouth found hers. He tasted wine, sweet honey, the crisp autumn air. The feel of her hair was soft in his fingers. Her hands pressed into his back, sliding up to draw his head down further. Closer to her.

She sighed, then moaned at the feel of his lips below her ear. He let out a breath and stepped back.

"We shouldn't," he whispered, trying to ignore his body screaming at him. There was no denying what she wanted. He raked a hand through his hair. "I-of course I want to, but we can't leave the wedding _now_. It's far too early. But if we- if we stay… and go back later, they'll know."

"Who will?" she breathed. She ran a hand up his arm, and he shivered. "Our children? Violet? Albert and Beryl? _They_ would certainly know, but they would never tell anyone. I'm rather surprised they haven't disappeared to somewhere quiet already. It's their wedding tradition," she grinned.

Charles leaned against a nearby tree. "We could wait until we got home." He scratched his chin. He did not convince himself, much less Elsie.

"We can't even kiss, not while the fires burn," she reminded him. "The risk is too much."

He glanced around them. They were completely alone. The music was soft in the distance.

He pulled her back into his arms.

"I know." His lips fluttered at her hairline. He began teasing her, his feather-light kisses on her forehead, nose and cheeks making her desperate for more. Their hands searched, pressed, roamed.

"If you truly want to wait," she gasped, her breath ragged, as his hands slid south of her waist, "I-w-will find restraint. _Oh_ ," she breathed. Their kisses grew more heated, the chill in the air ignored.

Both of them nearly breathless, they broke apart. She removed her cloak and laid it on the ground. They sat down on it, Elsie seated on Charles's lap.

"It isn't too bad," he murmured, his warm breath in the hollow of her throat. "It could be worse here. There could be mud on the ground."

"Mud?" she asked, confused, her fingers on the nape of his neck, in his hair. She was dizzy with desire.

"Like the wedding where Beryl and Albert met. Then it would be obvious to everyone when we returned what we were doing," he smiled, his hands trailing under her skirt, caressing the soft skin of her thighs. She whimpered. "But I have no intention of ruining this lovely tunic."

She laughed throatily and kissed him hard. Once again, then again, lingering against his lips until he groaned. "Nor I," she whispered. "But I hardly need it now, do I? Or you, yours."

Above them as the stars appeared, two doves cooed, then flew off. A large owl landed on a high branch shortly thereafter, shaking the leaves. Her wide eyes took in the quiet grove.

The couple below her moved in tandem, their quiet murmurings and whispered endearments the only sound.

* * *

Thomas danced with Sybil after Daisy, then with Ivy. Torches blazed in a long line along the river, and bonfires had been lit to further brighten the revelers, as well as provide warmth. Richard took Thomas's place once he finished dancing with Ivy. Thomas boldly approached the older woman who sat on a stump near a roaring fire.

"Priestess? May I dance with you?"

Violet eyed him beadily. "Considering the last time we spoke, I am surprised you wish to."

"That was during the last Festival, and I was a very different man."

"Oh, you're a man, are you?" Violet got to her feet. "You are still very much a boy, Thomas. With all the arrogance of youth guiding you."

Thomas held out his hands, his expression innocent. "But how am I to overcome my arrogance if no one teaches me? You and Isobel have a lot of wisdom to share, I've heard."

"Hmph," she muttered, skeptical. "It's not wisdom you have been wanting to hear. Or have you changed your mind about the gods?"

"No," he said stoutly. " _If_ they exist, which I am not certain they do, then they hate me."

Violet's eyes softened. "Hate is a strong word," she told him. "I have no doubt what the gods feel is far more powerful than anything we can explain. But you should not be so quick to think they are against you."

"What is your proof they are not?" He asked. It did not bother him that she said anything to contradict him. He was used to lectures about the gods.

"Can you not see it yourself? You have your health, your family and friends, and the king's good favor. You may cling to the things you do _not_ have," she looked him in the eye when he opened his mouth to protest, "But if you do that, you will never see the gifts you do have. They include, if I am not mistaken, a certain young man, who has been _very_ good for you."

Thomas swallowed, feeling his face warm. "Who told you about him? Elsie?"

"As a matter of fact, no. Sybil informed me." Behind Thomas, Violet watched Edward dance with Daisy. She gave Thomas her full attention once more. "If you need more proof that the gods think well of you, hear this. During last Harvest, I wanted to banish you from the kingdom. Now I am willing to dance with you. If _I_ can change, why can't the gods?"

Despite himself, Thomas smiled. He held out his hand and she took it. "As long as there's no more talk of the Divine while we're dancing, I might consider whether or not you have a point."

"Agreed," Violet said with a note of glee. "Dancing is far too much fun to spoil with solemn conversation. Especially if one has a decent partner."

They both knew Thomas was considered to be an excellent dancer. Fortunately for Violet, the man with the aulos played a steadier tune than the lively one earlier.

"Thomas, where is your father?" Robert asked, approaching them as the dance ended. "He promised to introduce me to your stepmother, and I know Cora wants to talk to him about seeing Harold in Staithes. I asked Sybil, then their friends Beryl and – her husband, I can't remember his name," he gestured vaguely behind him, "But none of them knew where he was. Or Elsie."

"I'm not sure, milord," Thomas answered. He glanced around, but could see no sign of his father or Elsie. A thought crossed his mind, but he squelched it.

 _I do_ _ **NOT**_ _wish to think about that. Perhaps they sat down for a rest?_

He had a feeling they were not resting. Wherever they were.

"When I see him, I'll certainly tell him you wish to speak with him," he said finally, giving the king a small smile. He bowed slightly to Violet, and then walked away. Gwen and her husband John laughed nearby with Sybil, Beryl and Albert.

"Mama, would you like to dance?" Robert asked. "I promise I haven't had too much wine."

"Of course you have. But I won't hold that against you," Violet let her son lead her back among the dancers.

Thomas searched among the crowd, walking along the riverbank. It irritated him that he felt obliged to search for his father, but he knew it would be an insult if the king did not get his wish.

He was just about to give up and go find Edward when he saw a small commotion out the corner of his eye. Daisy stood in between William and Andy. She looked upset, William flustered, and Andy downright angry. He made his way over to them quickly.

"-saw you! You think you can just grab her and-"

"Andy, calm down! He didn't _grab_ me." Daisy pulled on Andy's arm, trying to get him away from William. "We were just dancing!"

Andy snorted, glaring at the tall blond man. "It didn't look like dancing to me."

"What's going on here?" Thomas stepped in, making sure his shoulder blocked Andy. From the anger on the apprentice's face, he thought he guessed what was going on.

" _He_ -" snapped Andy, jabbing a finger into William's chest, "-had his hands all over your sister."

"I did _not_ ," William said, his voice tight but calm. He brushed aside Andy's hand. The gesture was not hostile, but Thomas saw a flash of anger in his eyes. "I would never treat her or any woman with anything but respect."

"Daisy, what happened?" Thomas asked. "You said you were just dancing?"

"And we were," she met his eyes. "William had his hand on my waist, but that was only so I wouldn't fall over twirling. That's _all_." She glanced at Andy, her mouth in a line. "Then _he_ barged over and started yelling like a drunken angry farmer."

Remme, walking by, growled in Andy's direction.

"I was only-" Andy started to say, then stopped, wilting under Daisy's glare. He turned his head. Even in the flickering firelight Thomas could see him turning red. "I thought I saw something different," he mumbled in William's direction. "I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven," William said softly. He held out his hand, and Andy took it reluctantly.

"As it happens, I was looking for you," Thomas said to William. "Might I have a word?"

"Yes. Thank you for dancing with me. It was lovely," William smiled a little at Daisy, then followed Thomas, leaving Andy and Daisy awkwardly standing next to each other.

"And thank you for stepping in," William muttered once they were out of earshot. "I was just being friendly. I-I didn't mean to make things difficult between your sister and Andy."

"I know you didn't," Thomas replied. The irony of what he had felt that morning and the present situation did not leave him. _First I was jealous of him for no reason, now Andy!_ "They'll have to figure things out between them."

Privately, he hoped it would not end in tears. He was well aware that Daisy had had a crush on the young apprentice, but he also knew she did not like open displays of anger.

Though she sometimes struggled with her own temper.

"What did you want to speak with me about?" William asked. They passed Martha, who was talking to Violet. The priestess did not look impressed. Mary danced with Richard, the two talking amiably.

"Nothing," Thomas began scanning the crowd for his father again. "I thought it would be better for you and Andy to have some distance between you."

"I thought as much," William sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And I am grateful to you. Honestly, if that boy had shoved me I don't know what I would have done. I have lost my temper in the past."

"You and me both." Thomas nodded at him as William walked off in the direction of his parents. "Wait – have you seen my father recently? Or Elsie?"

* * *

The music continued. It was a light, slower tune, one that Daisy loved. If everything had gone according to plan, she would have been dancing and having a wonderful time. Preferably with the boy who stood in front of her.

But Andy had _ruined_ it.

"Why did you do it?" she snapped. "That was _embarrassing_ , you shoving your way in between me and William-"

"I know it was wrong, but I couldn't help it," Andy put his hands up, as if to shield himself from her ire. "I was an idiot, but he was dancing with you, and I-"

"You what?" She cried, her hands on her hips. " _What_? Spit it out!"

The way her jaw was set, she reminded him of Elsie. Of the day the shepherdess had chased a wolf out of the meadow.

 _Women. They're scary when they're angry!_

"I…I didn't think you should've been dancing with him," he finished lamely. He cursed himself for being afraid earlier. All of this should have been different.

"Why?" Daisy snorted. "It's none of your business who I dance with! You're not my brother, and you're certainly not my father-"

"I know," He gritted through his teeth, trying to hold his temper. Remme had sat down and bared her teeth at him. He hoped the usually friendly sheepdog wouldn't bite him.

Even though he probably deserved it.

"And if I want to, and someone asks me and he seems nice, they why _shouldn't_ I dance with him? What am I supposed to do?" Daisy yelled, suddenly feeling close to tears. "Stand around all night and watch everyone else have fun-"

 _I wanted to dance with_ _ **you**_ _, but you never asked!_

Andy ran a hand through his hair. _What if I tell her the truth? She won't want to hear it._

 _I have to say_ _ **something**_ _. If we can stay friends at least…_

"I was jealous," he said abruptly, cutting her off. She stopped and stared at him. "Of him, dancing with you. He-he seems like a nice bloke."

He tried not to think about how inferior the tall young man made him feel. How handsome William was, how gracious. Not at all like him, a rude, stupid boy who barged in without thinking.

He felt rather guilty for yelling – William had helped him during the competition at Midsummer. He had never been anything but nice.

"It's not his fault I was afraid to ask you if you wanted to dance," Andy continued, speaking so fast Daisy had to lean closer to hear him. He wasn't looking at her. "Before you probably would only do it to be nice to me. Because you're kind…one of the kindest people I know."

 _She won't want to dance with you NOW, that's for certain._

Daisy felt her face get hot. Andy thought she was nice…he called her kind. He had wanted to dance with her, but after she yelled at him, why would he _want_ to? She was ashamed of herself.

 _He was nervous before._

 _It takes courage to ask someone to dance. You could have asked HIM. Ivy asked Alfred to dance._

"I'm not kind," she whispered. "I yelled at you. I hardly let you talk."

"I deserved it." He glanced down at Remme, who thankfully was not growling at him anymore. The dog lay quiet on the ground, watching the flames. "I am sorry I interrupted you and William. I should have just kept my mouth shut and walked away. I didn't mean to ruin your night."

"You didn't," she said quickly. _At least, the night isn't over yet._ "Would…would you forgive me for yelling at you? Even if you think you deserved it, I should have kept my temper. Papa would say women aren't supposed to yell."

"He'd be forgetting Mistress Petunia if he said that," he grinned, thinking of Master Drake's screeching wife. He was relieved when Daisy giggled, her eyes twinkling. He smiled back at her. "Of course I forgive you. Would you do the same?"

"Yes." Nodding at him, she was quiet for a moment. Listening to the aulos and harp, the slow cadence of the music. She swallowed nervously. "Would you like to dance with me?"

Andy stared at her, wondering if she was making fun of me. Her big eyes, with a hint of fear in them, told him she was not.

"I'd love to," he held out his hands. She took them, and they joined the couples around them. Andy did not know the steps well, but his greatest fear was stepping on her feet.

"You're doing fine," she reassured him. They moved back to where they were before, near Remme and the bonfire. It was getting chilly away from the warmth.

She tried not to think about how much she liked the feel of his hand on her waist. Or how much she wanted it to stay there.

She prayed Papa was nowhere nearby.

 _What would he say if he saw us dancing to this tune?_

It was a romantic one often played for weddings. Many couples around them were embracing rather tightly, she noticed. Even John and Anna had gotten up from their seats again and danced. Actually, she looked away from them, it was more like they swayed back and forth while kissing.

"You are a good dancer. Very natural," Andy's voice was low. She looked up at him. His gaze made her blush.

"Th-thank you," she stammered. "I've had a lot of practice. Thomas taught me, mostly. Papa likes dancing, too. He used to have me stand on his feet when I was little…"

 _Stop babbling on, girl!_

Her heart beat so fast she was sure he could hear it. His hand on her waist was warm and solid, but his fingers on her cheek were gentle. He leaned closer, and she leaned closer, and she remembered Ivy's suggestion to close her eyes at the last possible moment.

His lips touched hers.

Her lips were soft, and tasted of honey cake. He kissed her wanting to be careful, but she felt so good against him it was hard to keep himself still.

Breaking apart, they looked at each other shyly before breaking into laughter.

"I'm glad you did that," she said. It felt like butterflies danced in her belly.

"Me too," he kissed her forehead, and was happy when she hugged him.

 _Thank the gods. I've wanted to do that for a long time!_

She swayed a little dreamily, not seeing the people around them.

They jumped when Remme started barking furiously. Others turned to look at the dog, whose fur stood on end as she snarled and barked at the bonfire.

"Is she afraid of fire?" One man wearing a rich tunic asked. "I've a little pup at home who is-"

"Not at all," Andy told him. Daisy crouched down and petted the dog, trying to calm her. "She's often sat with me next to a fire in the meadow while we watched the flock at night."

"Did a spark fly out and burn her?" Another woman asked.

Daisy looked at Remme's legs and paws, but saw nothing. "Maybe, but I don't think so. Shhh, girl. _Shhhhh._ What's the matter?" She rubbed behind her ears and her back. Scratching Remme's favorite spot, she was glad when her furry friend calmed. She glanced up at Andy. "I think she's fine now."

* * *

 _Victor stepped back in an instant. Hastily poking the fire, the image before him vanished._

 _But it did not leave his mind._

 _The faithful companion of the Bringer of Peace had seen him in the fire._

 _ **If she only saw a glimpse of me, then all is not lost. But if she knows I have been watching, she will certainly tell Harmony. And Eala will know.**_

 _Trudging back to the bellows, he blew them up himself, ordering the automatons to cease their work._

" _You risk too much. Walking among the mortals is a danger, but this…all it takes is one instant. One moment when she or one of her friends sees you. She would be furious to know you spied on her."_

 _Athena leaned in the doorway, her face obscured by her helmet._

" _It will not happen again," he growled, inspecting an old sword. "I-I simply wanted to see my friends. Witness their joy. Is it so wrong I wanted to do that? It is not my fault Harmony's dog was watching!" He dropped the sword on the table. It clanged heavily, the sound echoing from the walls. He tugged on his beard in frustration._

 ** _Why does one of the dogs always sense my presence?_**

 ** _Why is it_ always _the dog?_**

" _No, it was not. Nor do I find it wrong for you to want to see the mortals' happiness," she told him._

 _Athena stayed for a little while. Mostly to keep her friend company as he worked. He was lonely, she knew._

 _How much more desolate would he feel if he knew what she had seen in the grove, hidden in the form of an owl?_

 _It frightened her._

 _ **Oh, Eala. You love the shepherd, and he loves you. But have you forgotten your intended? I know little of love. I am Wisdom.**_

 _ **I do know this. If Victor knows of your love for the mortal, it will break him. And there will be nothing to stop his rage.**_

* * *

 **TBC…**


	46. Firsts

**A/N: IF YOU HAVE NOT READ CHAPTERS 44 OR 45, GO BACK AND READ THOSE FIRST. THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER POSTED TODAY.**

* * *

Charles draped the cloak over Elsie's shoulders. He could not resist leaving another slow kiss against her bare neck, his hands sliding down her arms.

"Don't tempt me," she murmured. "We have already stayed here far too long. If John and Anna have left by now, I would not be surprised."

" _We_ stayed too long?" He asked playfully, winding an arm around her waist as they walked back to the crowds. The half-moon lit the night sky above them. "It was you who pulled me back down when I went to get up the second time-"

"And it was _you_ who would not keep your hands off me," she pushed him slightly, shaking her head and laughing. "So yes, _we_ stayed too long."

"I thought you had restraint," he said innocently as they made their way through empty tables and passed the last few diehards with their wine. Elsie stopped, facing him.

"You know very well, husband," she said low, "When you touch me, and kiss me, and use _that voice_ with me, it is _very_ difficult for me to find any restraint."

"What voice?" He asked. He could not resist wagging his eyebrows.

She huffed out a breath that was half-frustration, half pleasure. "Oooh, why do I love such an impudent man?" She meant to say more, but they were nearing one of the large bonfires. The queen approached them.

"There you are," she said. "Robert was looking for both of you."

Charles and Elsie exchanged worried glances.

"I hope he wasn't waiting too long, milady?" Charles asked. He held his breath.

Cora waved her hand. "It was some time ago, but please don't worry that he will be irritated with you. My husband has no trouble having a good time. But he will be glad to see both of you."

Elsie followed behind the queen, feeling some trepidation. She had never met Robert. Knowing his temperament, she hoped he would not embarrass his wife. Or Charles.

There was no need to worry.

To her and Charles's surprise, they found the king dancing with Beryl. The two laughed uproariously over some joke. When Cora touched her husband's arm, he graciously thanked his dance partner and came away, his arms swinging rather freely, and his eyes a little blurry.

 _Ah yes,_ he thought, feeling at peace with the world. _Charles. And his wife. I've heard she's very pretty._

"Milord," the shepherd said, hiding his anxiety, "This is my wife, Elsie."

"Elsie," Robert said warmly, taking her hands in his own. They were very small, he thought. "How nice to meet you at last."

She _was_ beautiful. Her red hair reflected the firelight, her dark eyes like deep pools of water. She was more beautiful than anyone he'd ever seen…even Cora.

 _I think._

 _If it was daylight I could see her more clearly._

He asked her to dance, and she accepted him. His belly flipped at the sound of her lilt. He shook his head slowly, mindful to keep his steps steady.

Robert put his hand on her waist, but she barely felt it. Although she knew he would regret it in the morning, she was quite glad he had imbibed so much wine. It muddled his mind and smothered his desire. Had he been sober, Elsie would not have wanted to be anywhere near him.

 _He is tempted easily._

They began to dance. The king was a good dancer, and the glance Elsie had over his shoulder of Cora dancing with Charles told her the two were well matched.

"How do you like Downton?" Robert asked, breaking into her thoughts.

She gave him a small smile. "Very much. It's my home now."

"Everything has happened so quickly for you," he said, turning them so they followed the other couples in a circle. "I'm sure when you first came here, you never imagined you would marry so soon."

"No, I certainly did not," she laughed a little under her breath. It surprised her that Robert was so attentive, considering how much wine was inside him.

 _A generous man. He could have been a terror, his every whim indulged. But he does care about others. He loves his children, his family._

 _And he adores his wife._

"No one but Charles could have convinced me to marry him so soon," she mused, thinking of Midsummer. "How was it for you?"

She knew Robert and Cora's story, but wished to hear it from him.

"When I was a child my father and mother tried to make an alliance for me," he said. "But we were considered a lesser kingdom in comparison to others, and few rulers were willing to allow their daughters to marry a poor prince. It was in Merton, at the young king's wedding feast, that I first saw Cora. She was tall and slender, her pale blue eyes like the sky in early spring. Some called her weak," he shook his head, "She is anything but that."

"She is a strong woman," Elsie agreed. _Strength comes in many forms._

"Her father was only a merchant, but his wealth rivaled that of Croesus. Only a fool would not pursue it. And my father was no fool. We were married before the Harvest Festival. I did not love her then," Robert said softly, his gaze far away, "Or for a long time after. I was young, and did not recognize the gift given to me."

In the back of his hazy mind, he wondered why he was telling this to a stranger.

"You love her now," Elsie reassured him. Robert looked at her as though he had forgotten she was there.

"Yes. Yes I do. I could not imagine life without her."

* * *

Charles twirled Cora, hoping his clumsy feet did not cause the queen to stumble. They talked of Harold, of the market in Staithes, about Edith's news.

"They hope to visit Downton next summer," Cora said. "After the baby is born, of course." She sighed. "I pray to all the gods that they can come. We haven't seen any of them since Edith and Bertie married. Marigold has probably forgotten what we all look like!"

"I'm sure she will know you, milady," Charles replied. Of course he had no idea if the little girl would remember her grandmother, but he was not about to say anything else to the queen.

"I keep thinking about Edith," Cora fretted. "This will be the first time a daughter of mine will give birth when I'm not there. Oh, I know she will have an excellent midwife and Bertie won't leave her side…but it will not be the same." She glanced at Charles and smiled. "We never stop worrying about our children. No matter how old they are, or where they are."

"No," he agreed. "As for Elsie and I, Daisy will be close by. That's a comfort to us. And we know Thomas and Sybil will be in good hands at the palace. But yes," he nodded, his eyes soft in understanding, "We won't rest easy until they are back home. No offense intended."

"None taken," she squeezed his arm. The dance ended, and they clapped for the musicians.

"John! Anna!" Robert called, waving them over. "Before we send you off, there is one more gift to give you." The crowd quieted and gathered closer together.

The newlyweds got up from the large stump where they had been sitting. Elsie made her way over to Charles. She slipped her fingers into his, and he smiled down at her.

"I do hope Robert was kind to you," Cora said to Elsie. "He's already had more wine than is good for him."

"He was very kind, milady. He spoke mostly of you."

Cora looked down, her blush noticeable on her face even in the flickering light. But her beautiful smile was brighter than the fire.

Robert held out his hands to Anna and John as they approached him. "As much as we all enjoy your company, I'm sure you both want to be rid of us," he said to general laughter. He put a hand on John's shoulder.

Without a warning, two of the king's guards grabbed John, one on either side of him. They half-lifted, half carried him to the river. Anna gasped, her hands on her face. The two burly guards waded into the shallow water and dunked John. They quickly dragged him out again, both because of the chill and because of the current.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Charles looked at Anna. Her hands still covered her face and her eyes were wide, but he thought he saw a spark of recognition in her expression. He knew what she was thinking.

 _It was a long time ago. And yet the king did not forget._

John stood shivering, dripping on the riverbank. Water ran down his face, and he tried to wipe it away with his arm. He walked over to Robert. His friend had his arms crossed, frowning at him.

They both burst out laughing at the same time.

"I should have seen that coming," John shook his head, his wet hair flinging drops everywhere. "I did that to you on your wedding day!"

"Yes, you did. And I promised myself when you made your vows, you would receive the same punishment," Robert laughed.

The tension in the crowd dissolved, and several titters echoed into the night. Elsie turned to Sybil, who had joined her mother and Charles.

"Did Tom have anything to do with this? Did he influence Robert?" Elsie asked her in a low voice. The mirth around them masked her voice.

Sybil's dimples showed in her face. "No. Robert's just drunk. And John _did_ throw him into the river on his wedding day."

Richard said, "Get him a blanket or something to dry off. We don't want him ill." Charles took off his cloak and draped it over John's shoulders. The heat of the bonfire felt good against his bare arms. He could imagine what John felt like.

"I'm not surprised, but I had hoped he would spare you," he said to the groom. John rubbed the cloak over his hair. He grinned.

"Robert? He's wanted to get me back for over twenty years. It was inevitable."

The king clapped John on the back with a final word, something whispered so that only the groom could hear what he said. Then he let the queen lead him away.

Some people left, carrying tired children and saying goodbye to friends. Gwen and her husband John bade a fond farewell to the newly-married couple. Gwen promised that they would see each other again.

"And that time, you'll know before we come," she said, her hands on Anna's arms. "Probably with a line of children behind us, come to visit you and your brood-"

"Do you have something to tell me?" Anna raised an eyebrow.

Gwen laughed. Her John, standing behind her, kissed the top of her head.

"Not yet. She'll write to you if she does. And please write her if _you_ do. Or if you need anything," he met John's eyes. "You have friends outside Downton as well."

The musicians still played, and others danced on. After Sybil gave Anna a hug, she went to dance with William. Beryl and Albert had disappeared for a suspicious length of time, but reappeared to continue dancing.

William rolled his eyes. "At least they made sure to keep their clothing free of mud. _This_ time."

"William!" Sybil slapped his arm playfully. He lifted her, turned, and set her down in time with the music.

"They are my parents, and I love them. I know how they are – they won't ever change."

Anna and Mary left to go to the house. Once Mary returned, John knew, it would be time for _him_ to go home. He felt his body stir. Anna and he, in their house. Alone…

George laughed, playing with Remme. The dog rolled over, got up again, sat obediently, and let the little boy lead her around with a stick in her mouth. Martha watched over her great-grandson, occasionally petting Remme when George brought her closer. Sybil danced with Edward again, the two deliberately out of step, laughing uproariously.

Thomas was in the middle of helping William play a game of dice. From the groans of some of the guards, it sounded like they were having success.

Richard asked Elsie to dance. She accepted, though she was a little frustrated. She and Charles had barely danced together all night.

 _Whose fault is that? Had you not left earlier, you would have had plenty of dances by now with your husband._

Of course she did not really regret going to the grove near sunset.

Isobel swept George up to dance with him. Remme, dismissed by the boy, trotted over to the fire near John. On her way, she turned and gave Sybil a long look. The goddess was in the middle of a dance with Charles.

She stumbled, and would have fallen had her stepfather not caught her.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," she laughed, keeping her eyes down, pretending to regain her balance. "I must be getting tired," she said. "It's been a long day."

Her heart raced.

 _A glimpse of Victor, she says._

 _A glimpse._

 _In the fire._

 _What did he see? Besides Daisy and Andy?_

The thought of the Fire God knowing about her mother and Charles was frightening enough, but thinking of his anger directed at her brother and sister was terrifying.

 _They are innocent. As are Edward and Andy…and everyone else here._

She saw Elsie coming towards her and Charles. She shut her eyes for a moment too quick to be seen by mortals.

 _I will tell her nothing. Not tonight._

Elsie tapped Charles on the shoulder, her eyes glittering.

"A wife would like a dance with her husband," she murmured. The sound of the lyre was intoxicating.

Sybil slipped out of Charles's arms. Despite her concern, she could not stop smiling at the loving glance between him and her mother.

 _At peace with each other. They need nothing else._

Scarcely had Charles and Elsie taken two steps when all the men were called together. Charles sighed, shrugged, and gave her a lingering kiss on her hand.

"One way or another, we _will_ have a proper dance tonight," he said. "Promise?"

"I promise," She said, waving him to go on with the men. The remaining women were scattered about. Most were seated near bonfires, talking with each other. Some danced together.

Elsie smiled when she saw Daisy and Ivy huddled together, talking and giggling. Daisy's cheeks were rosy.

 _Oh my girl, you are growing into a woman._

She immediately made up her mind to say nothing to Charles.

 _I will have to talk to him when he's calm. In a good mood._

* * *

Voices rose in the air. Singing, laughing, talking. Even in the middle of them, John felt a shudder as the night air brushed against his neck.

 _Not quite dry there._

"I used to think this was a laugh," Thomas muttered to Edward. "When I was younger. Taking a man to his house, leaving him there with his new mate." He glanced at Robert, who was singing a rather rude song with some of the others. "Now I think it would be better if a man could just go on his own. Maybe one or two friends to go with him, if he's had too much wine."

"That's the newer custom," Edward said. "I think this sort of thing is done more by older folks. Besides," he brushed his hand against Thomas's back, "Your father, Richard, and Joseph are here. They won't let the others stay outside the house for long. And neither will we."

John and Anna's house stood in a little meadow. A candle flickered from a window in the front, and light through the open doorway. A woman stood there. Her face was in shadow.

The men stopped near a low stone wall. John went through the opening and waved back at them. Several whistles and cheers floated after him, but he did not mind them.

All he could see was Anna.

She had taken off her blue shawl, her bracelet and necklace. Her thick hair was down around her shoulders.

"Wife," he whispered.

"Husband." There was a heat in her eyes he had never seen before. She held out a small cup of wine and he took it. She held hers in her other hand. They toasted each other, and drank.

She had never felt more alive – no, that was not it. She felt _powerful_. He, her John, her husband, her man, wanted her. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in the short breaths he took, even saw it as he set his empty cup down with shaking fingers.

She was not nervous at all.

 _Thank you, Divine Lady._

"Come in." Anna took John's hands in hers and led him into the house. Behind them, they both heard distant cheering, but neither of them took any notice of it.

"You are mine," she breathed as they kissed. "And I am yours." Slowly at first, then mouths opening, tasting each other.

A roaring fire blazed next to the sheepskin. Several candles were lit, making the room bright enough so they could see everything.

"Anna," he whispered, his hands sliding over her curves, "Love, I want you, but I don't want to hurt you-"

Everything in him wanted to love her, to have her, _now_. He knew it would be better if they went slower. The way she kissed him, slow was going to be very difficult.

She put a finger over his lips. "You will not hurt me. I trust you, and I love you." She moved back a little to remove her tunic. He helped her pull the long garment over her head, then she helped him remove his belt and tunic with ever faster hands.

By the time they sat together on the sheepskin, both were gasping. Her hands roaming down his back. He pulled her onto his lap, never mind the pain in his knee.

It was more than worth it to hold his naked wife in his arms.

"John," she whispered as his lips kissed her shoulder, his gentle hands touching, squeezing her thighs, "Touch me, come to me…"

She felt close to tears with the strength of her need for him.

The crackling and snapping of the fire seemed to heighten all of their senses. He moaned as they moved together, spurred on by the way she cried out his name. She tasted his skin and held him close.

* * *

Some men went off on their own after leaving the newlyweds' house. To sing, to drink. When the others returned to the riverbank, Robert told Cora he would dance with their daughter, then with her once more, but then he thought it was time for them to leave. If they wished to.

Albert asked Daisy to dance, and she got up to do so. Thomas stood feeling rather unneeded. He had danced with everyone he had wanted to, including Elsie. He wondered if he should dance with Sybil again…

 _You haven't danced with_ _everyone_ _you wanted to. Not really._

Seeing his father and Elsie dance gave him a boost of courage.

 _If Father is really angry about it, she can calm him down._

 _I should thank her for that._

 _Maybe he won't be angry._

 _Maybe he will. Dancing is different, it's more…intimate._

 _Only one way to find out._

He blew out a breath.

Edward sat on a stump, watching the musicians. He looked up when Thomas held out his hand.

"Would you like to dance with me?"

Edward beamed, his smile lighting up his face. "I thought you'd _never_ ask." He took his mate's hands and stood up. They moved together, hands on each other's waists. Thomas leaned his head on Edward's shoulder. Neither one of them really cared about their steps.

Or about who was watching.

"I thought he would ask him," Albert nodded as he and Daisy danced past the pair. "Before the night was over." They fondly watched Thomas and Edward.

"What?" Charles raised his eyebrows when he saw Elsie smiling at him. "Why are you surprised with me? I like Edward. Besides, they are discrete."

As they moved past them, Edward kissed Thomas. Charles sputtered and came to a sudden halt, almost knocking Elsie over.

"He's kissing _my_ son! In front of all of these people! _What_ -"

"Oh, calm down," Elsie took his arm and turned him away. She shook her head. "They are not the first ones to kiss tonight, if you haven't noticed."

"Of course I have!" Charles puffed himself up. "But…but this is _different_."

"How?" She kept her grip on his arm. "Do you really think they have never kissed before?"

"Well, no, but-"

"'But' nothing. They are young men and not children. Are you going to make a scene the first time you see Daisy kissing someone?"

From the look on her husband's face, Elsie thought he had never even thought of that particular situation happening before. She sighed, and closed her eyes.

 _He is_ _so_ _protective of them, but they will grow up. And he will have to let them go._

She felt a pang, thinking of when her daughter was young. The first time she had fallen in love.

 _I am going to have to bring him along gently._

She thought she would have to have a word with Daisy later. And, if needed, Andy.

"Come on," she pulled Charles with her, up the hill. "Let's dance. Just you and I."

William grinned, seeing Edward and Thomas together. He spun his mother around. "I'm glad everything turned out all right for everyone."

"Not everyone," Beryl reached up and patted his cheek. "What about _you_? I know you…and what you feel for that girl," she nodded in Daisy's direction. "You like her."

"Mum, don't make something out of it that isn't there," William said patiently. "Yes, I like her. _Everyone_ likes her. But someone else likes her more, and more to the point, she likes _him_. I'm not going to interfere. Besides," he grinned down at her, "I have forever to find someone."

* * *

John sighed in contentment. He could not stop gazing at his wife, his woman. His lover.

"Well," he smiled, his mouth feeling dry, "You've had your way with me. I just hope you don't live to regret it."

His knee twinged, and he knew he would be very sore in the morning. Part of him still had a hard time believing all of this was real. That such a good, beautiful woman loved him and wanted to be with _him._ Older, half-broken down as he was.

 _The way she took me, especially the second time…I could almost believe in the gods._

Anna giggled. She was ravishing, her hair a golden tangle. Her body felt languid, but sleep was the farthest thing from her mind.

Part of her wondered how she had been so bold. Another part of her didn't care.

 _I_ _did_ _have my way, and he seemed to like it. As I liked it when he had his way._

 _How could he think I would regret marrying him!?_

She knew she would never want anyone else.

"I couldn't regret it," she said in her forthright way. "No matter what comes, I know only that I am now who I was meant to be."

There was not a smidgen of doubt in her mind or in her heart.

He pulled her towards him, kissing her lightly on her nose. She took a deep breath.

"Now that we're man and wife, this may not be enough for just one night."

"No," he whispered, agreeing. He felt elation beyond his wildest hopes.

 _We can do this tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after…_

"Lay back," she murmured against his lips. Pushing slightly on his shoulder, she climbed on top of him. Her hair tickled his chest.

Though neither of them looked, the candles went out on their own. The fire gradually burned lower, little flames licking at anything left, as John cried out without words.

He found out his wife was a naughty girl, indeed.

After he caught his breath, he loved her until she pulled his hair, keening.

They cuddled together before finally falling asleep. The red coals of the ashes cooled and turned grey.

* * *

Charles and Elsie swayed together behind the hedge, away from the bonfires. The stars burned brightly above them, and over the few people left.

"I hope you don't mind Ivy sleeping the night at our house," Charles kissed Elsie's forehead. "No doubt she and Daisy will be up until dawn talking. I hope they let Sybil get some sleep."

Their daughters and Ivy had walked home with William, Beryl, and Albert and the apprentices. Thomas and Edward had left a short time after them, though to go where Charles wasn't sure.

The lads had promised to sleep close to home, and to come to the house in the morning. He knew they would – if nothing else, to get something to eat.

He tried not to think about what else they might be doing, other than sleeping.

Elsie laughed. "I don't mind a bit," she said. "Richard and Isobel get so little time to themselves, and it is hardly surprising Ivy would rather stay with her friend than at the temple. Although it does make me happy we took the time to be alone this morning…and earlier this evening, too."

They danced without speaking for a while, their arms around each other. Only two musicians remained. The man playing the aulos and the woman with the lyre.

"How was John this morning?" Elsie asked. "I meant to ask you earlier. He didn't look nervous during their vows."

"He was, but more excited, I think. Happy," Charles yawned slightly through his smile. "The happiest I've seen him. Happier than any man who's ever lived, I daresay. Save one."

"Oh?" Elsie murmured. She peered at her husband from beneath her eyelashes. "Which man has been happier?"

Charles held her closer, his hands warm on her back. "The man who loves you."

They kissed beneath the moon until a slight breeze made them shiver. Wrapping their cloaks tightly around them, they walked home hand in hand.

* * *

 **A/N: Though the gods in this story are based on those in Greek mythology, I have not often used ancient Greek customs. The wedding ceremony and the feast (and dancing) afterwards are my own invention. Robert having his guards dunk John in the river is the only nod to real history. In ancient Greece, the bride and groom had a ceremonial bath during the wedding.**


	47. Harvest

**A/N: Well, I did NOT intend for there to be this long of a gap between the last posting and this one, especially considering the length of this chapter. I'm sorry about that. Travel, illness, a failed attempt at NaNo, and another lovely bout of severe self-doubt kept this chapter from being posted sooner.**

 **This story is fairly well mapped** _ **after**_ **this point; it's just down to me actually writing it. In the next several chapters to come, there will be some time jumps. This is a reassurance to those who worry about the direction of this story…time jumps mean there's** **not** **a huge amount of drama going on. Things will be fairly quiet for a bit.**

 **If you have time, I'd love a word or two of review. Even for this little snippet. I did very much enjoy the feedback on the wedding chapters. Thank you, lovely readers, as always!**

* * *

 _The end of summer and the beginning of autumn was marked by the Harvest Festival. Less pious and more spontaneous than Midsummer, it was marked by generous feasts and many pranks._

 _It was celebrated in tribute of the Goddess of the Harvest._

 _The priestesses of Eala gave the other divine being her due reverence, by re-telling her sacred stories. There were always some who stopped outside the temple to listen. But most people were usually impatient to get to a feast, to partake in all the fun. The servants of Eala were used to being ignored during the holy days at the close of summer._

 _Impiety, on the other hand, was not taken lightly. Thomas had almost been sent into exile when Violet caught him imitating the priestesses, making the listening audience laugh._

 _One year later, the young man had little interest in repeating the incident. Edward, Daisy, and Sybil had asked him not to. He agreed even though he did not need their pleas._

 _He did not wish to embarrass his father. To give him grief at the onset of autumn._

 _The season was a long one._

 _As the king and his family prepared to return to the palace, Thomas knew he would not return to Downton again until the moon had run its cycle three times._

 _He had little desire to leave home on a sour note._

 _For Elsie, the Harvest Festival was a joyous event, though it was also bittersweet. At its conclusion, Beryl, Albert, and William would leave. They would not return to Downton._

 _Or to mortal form again._

 _Elsie and Charles spent as much time as they could with their divine friends. Beryl reveled in attending the feasts, and always acted surprised when pranks were played on her. The local children learned quickly that she wasn't bothered by them – rather, she seemed to enjoy them._

 _Which, of course, she did._

 _She loved 'accidentally' sitting on a handful of acorns placed on her seat. Being handed a delicious-looking apple, only to find a worm when she bit into it. She and Albert made a great show of gasping in shock when several boys tipped a barrel of sour wine over their heads._

 _Charles was appalled at the pranksters' irreverence, but he could hardly reprimand them when the goddess herself did not mind. Elsie, Sybil, and William simply laughed._

 _Eventually, the shepherd joined them. Elsie gave her husband a fond kiss on the cheek, glad he had not let his irritation of the impiety overshadow the fun._

 _Their lightheartedness did not last._

 _They were horrified to learn from Sybil that Victor had been watching the fires the night of Anna and John's wedding. Though neither of them were truly surprised._

 _What worried them the most was that he had seen Daisy. But neither Remme, Sybil, nor any of the other hidden gods, knew if the Master of Fire was aware of the girl's identity._

 _That uncertainty made Charles and Elsie understand, more than ever, that their divine friends' watchfulness and protection was necessary, even though their impending separation from the others brought them sadness._

 _Charles also wished he could have had more time with Thomas. The rift between them had mended somewhat, even after Charles's marriage and the revelation about Sybil. Theirs was not as close a father-son bond as the shepherd wanted._

 _But it was_ much _closer than it had been in the spring._

 _He knew Thomas had to go with the king back to the palace. He was glad both Edward and Sybil would be with him. He would miss his son's mate and his stepdaughter as well. But he would miss Thomas very much. More than he could say._

 _At least Daisy would be nearby, in Downton._

 _And Elsie was at his side, too._

 _Perhaps the autumn would not be as interminable as the ones before it, after all._


	48. Leaving

The fire snapped as John poked it. He shivered slightly. The air inside his and Anna's hut was chilly this morning, and the fog was so thick outside the sun had trouble making its presence known.

He smiled down at his still-sleeping wife.

 _My darling, do you know how much I love you?_

"Anna," he said softly, stroking her cheek. She stirred, but only burrowed further under the blanket. He laughed at her feeble attempt to stave off the inevitable. "Love, wake up. The day has started."

"It may have started…but that doesn't mean _I_ have to." Her sleepy voice was muffled.

Setting down his crutch, John lifted the blanket. Anna groaned, scrambling for warmth. He slid in next to her and wrapped her in his arms.

"I must go to the forge today, you know that," he whispered into her hair. "It's been four days since I was there…if I could stay _here_ all the time, it would be wonderful. But I can't."

With gentle persuasion and many kisses, he convinced her to get up. After a quiet breakfast of bread, apples, and cheese (the last of the food that their friends had given them), they left their home.

Anna yawned, her hand in John's. He leaned a little on his crutch but more on her.

It was impossible to see very far. They could hear the river before they reached Downton. Up ahead, though, they began to make out tiny points of light, the fires and torches lighting the village.

"Many visitors will be leaving today, if they haven't already," he said. "Did Gwen say if she and John were staying until this morning?" The Harvest Festival had ended the night before.

"No, they left yesterday," Anna slid her hand into the crook of his arm. She was glad he wore a cloak, even though she knew he wouldn't wear it after he got to the forge. And likely not that evening. But the morning was a cold one. "They had to start traveling back home. But she said if they could have stayed until the new moon, they would have. Farmers are still bringing their harvests into Downton. The Festival may be over, but the season is certainly not."

They had to step off the road to let a man driving a cart go by.

"Are you going to look for anything in particular at the market?" John asked. "Other than what we need? If you see something you want, please get it."

"You're generous," she kissed him on the cheek. "But as I'm setting up our household, I have to be careful. I won't spend all the gold we have right off! Besides, I thought I would look in on Phyllis before I leave. And I thought maybe I'd drop by and see Elsie, too. She seemed sad last night."

"Their friends are leaving today. As are Sybil, Thomas and Edward. It's no wonder she would be sad." He glanced down at her. "You should go and see her later today. She would be happy to see you." He smiled, feeling the familiar bubbly feeling inside him. "I want her to be happy. I'm happy. I want _everyone_ to be happy."

Anna laughed. "I wonder why you are so full of joy, Master Blacksmith."

"I will give you one guess." He stopped, and she with him. He bent over and gave her a lingering kiss, his lips tasting the sweetness of hers. He sighed and held her close. "I am happier now than I have ever been. The woman of my dreams is my wife, and my friend the king has given me so much work this summer we could not spend all of our gold before _next_ Harvest Festival."

"Bad harvest, bad harvest," Anna murmured as they walked into Downton. It was more out of habit than anything. She felt as happy as her new husband, but…it was not a good idea to tempt fate.

Or the gods.

"What does that mean?" John nodded at Master Bill, who passed them in the fog. "I used to hear my mother say that, but I never knew what she meant by it."

"In the old days, when the crop was good, the farmers used to shout 'Bad Harvest'," she explained. "So the gods wouldn't become jealous of their luck and destroy them. My dad used to shout it. I've heard farmers around here do it as well."

John had little fear of anything he couldn't see. But he loved Anna above everything else.

"BAD HARVEST!" He bellowed. "That ought to take care of it."

"Come on, you," she giggled. "Or else Toby and Daniel will think you aren't coming to the forge."

* * *

The group clustered outside the house, near the well. The lowing of sheep could be heard from the hill. The sun was beginning to break through, making it possible to see faces without the help of torches.

Friends were leaving.

Beryl shook her head, wiping tears from her face. "Don't mind me," she said, trying to smile at Daisy. Elsie had her arm around her friend's shoulders. "I always cry when saying goodbye to my friends."

"And I thought you were crying because you'll miss Mother's bread," Daisy joked. The flame-haired woman chuckled.

"If you were crying because you will miss _Daisy's_ bread, then I would believe you," Elsie gave Beryl a hug, then relinquished her to her daughter.

The goddess embraced Daisy tightly. "I will miss you," she said in her ear. Standing back, she looked the girl in the eye. Seeing her worried expression, she hastily wiped at the tears on her cheeks. "Don't…don't concern yourself…I'll get over it. Look after your father, will you? That man needs all the help he can get."

"I will," Daisy promised. She swallowed, feeling uneasy. They were all so sad. "But you'll come back, won't you? Or we can visit you." _Wherever they are going._ "You and Mother are close friends, after all."

"Yes," Beryl sighed. "Well…we will certainly try to see each other again. If we can." Her voice was watery. As she turned to talk to Charles, she sniffed, fresh tears appearing in her eyes.

Something did not feel right to Daisy. Of course it was natural for people to be sad when saying goodbye to family and friends. Anna had cried a little the evening before when bidding Gwen farewell. But Beryl did _not_ always cry when she left friends. She hadn't cried when she had left Elsie and Daisy before Midsummer.

Even Albert and William seemed subdued.

 _It's like they don't think they_ _will_ _come back._

 _Odd._

 _Why wouldn't they?_

"I would have liked to talk a bit more with Thomas," Albert said in a low voice to Elsie. "When you see them later, can you give him my best regards? He's a prickly lad, but he has a good heart." He smiled, his face brightening a little. "Not that I have to tell you that."

"No. But it is nice to hear it from others all the same." Elsie gave him a kiss on the cheek. "That is from Sybil, not me. She was sorry to miss you all."

Sybil, Thomas and Edward were busy at the hall, preparing for the court's return north to the palace. They were coming back to the house later in the day to say goodbye to the family. The king and his family were beginning their journey home very early the following day.

Charles stole a glance at his wife. She laughed at something Albert said, but he could see the unshed tears in her eyes.

"She will miss you all very much," he turned to Beryl. "As will I…I cannot thank you enough for what you are doing for us. What you _have_ done. I only wish there was some way to properly show our gratitude."

He knew it was impossible.

She squeezed his arm. "You're welcome. We will do the best we can. You can thank us by continuing to love Elsie the way you have. Enjoy each other. Be happy in the years to come, and try not to worry about what might happen. That is our burden, not yours."

"I'll try not to worry," he heaved a sigh, shaking his head. "But I won't succeed."

It seemed unbelievable that he would never, in the rest of his life or afterwards, see Beryl again. The thought immediately brought tears to his eyes. A thought that had troubled him before Anna's wedding whispered again in his mind.

 _Do not think of that now. There is enough sorrow now without dwelling on it._

Albert gave Daisy a fond hug, and a kiss on the cheek. His whiskers tickled her a little. "Now what's this?" he asked, touching her nose when her chin trembled. "Did my wife make you cry? Shame on her!"

She laughed, despite the lump in her throat. "I don't know why I'm crying, or why she is," she said. "Because you're leaving, I suppose. But we will see each other again. I know it." Her big eyes shimmered. "I understand why you all would be sad to leave Mother. She is _your_ friend. I hardly know you at all."

 _But it feels like I do._

"Oh, but do we need to see each other often to be friends? No." The hidden god put an arm around her. "You are a sweet girl, Daisy. From the moment I first met you, I knew you were someone worth knowing." He cleared his throat. "Chin up. Don't tell your sister, but I like you just as much as her." He winked at her and she smiled, feeling warmth in her chest.

She was not sure she believed him, especially regarding Sybil, but it was nice to hear it.

Elsie held William's hands. "Look after yourself," she told him, a hitch in her voice. "I would hate for you to be punished because of me." She pulled him into a hug, letting him rest his head on her shoulder. Remembering holding him after he was born.

"You are kind," he said softly, letting her go. "Home is not the same without you…but I think you've found your true home here."

"And you're right. But I could never forget you all," she reached up to pat his cheek. "No matter where I am. Tell my reprobate son-in-law to behave himself. If _you_ tell him, he may listen."

His smile reached his eyes. "He won't listen _or_ behave, but I'll tell him."

Albert extended his hand, and Charles took it. "You make her very happy, Shepherd. Happier than she's ever been. With anyone," he said, covering their clasped hands with his other one. "We will do our best to see that you have a long life together."

"Thank you," Charles replied. It felt overwhelming, what they were willing to do for him and Elsie. The same thought that had crossed his mind when talking to Beryl floated through his mind. Albert saw it in his face.

"Take each day as they come. Like a gift." He gave the shepherd one last handshake, then clasped his shoulder. He then walked a short distance away, half-hidden in the lifting fog. Charles felt a hard lump in his throat at the tears in the god's eyes.

William stared at the ground, dragging his toes. "I hope things work out for you, Daisy. You deserve every happiness. I…told Andy goodbye earlier. He's very nice. You are fortunate to have a friend like him close by."

Her skin flushed pink. She could hardly think of a reply to that, but something in William's expression made her feel sorry for him.

 _He looks like he doesn't want to leave._

He was glad that she had so many family and friends that cared for her. His mother had said he liked her, and it was true. The shepherd's daughter was special. He would have liked to know her better, as a friend. But he would never get the chance.

It made him sad.

 _Think of Elsie and Charles sharing a long life together. With Sybil, Thomas, Daisy, and Edward. They all deserve that._

"Friends?" Daisy asked, holding out her hand. William took it, smiling.

"Always friends."

"We need to go," Albert called. William hurried to give Elsie one last hug before joining his father. Beryl kissed Charles on the cheek. Then she turned to embrace her oldest friend one more time.

"I know you don't need another warning," she whispered in her ear. "If it were me, I never would have been so cautious. Or found restraint." She met Elsie's eyes, mindful of Daisy standing with Charles nearby. "Just…be careful while baking bread. I would hate for you to get burned, or for the house to catch fire."

There was no need for her to say anything clearer. Both goddesses knew exactly what she meant.

Elsie forced a smile. "I will be careful. My family wants to eat good food, not ash…goodbye, my friend."

The two silently faced each other for a moment. Elsie squeezed her friend's hands and let go. William took his mother's hand, while Albert put his arm around her shoulders. The three of them walked toward the road.

Before they vanished into the fog, they turned and waved one more time at the three figures at the top of the hill.

* * *

"It does not seem fair," Elsie mused, gently running her fingers through Sybil's long tresses, "that I have to say farewell to Beryl, Albert, William, Thomas, Edward _and_ you all in one day!"

It was one thing leaving her daughter and her friends when she assumed mortal form. She knew then that there would be long stretches of time before she saw them once more. But she could depend on seeing them all before she resumed divine form again.

Now that reassurance was gone.

Saying goodbye to her daughter, son, and her son's mate the same day felt cruel.

 _At least Daisy is not going to Master Bill's until tomorrow._

"You said my name last. I see where I stand with you," Sybil joked, then sighed. "You will see some of us again soon. Three cycles of the moon is not that long to wait." She leaned over, the top of her head against her mother's cheek.

"True," Elsie admitted. "But I have no idea how long it will be before I see Beryl and her family again. I should not dwell on it, I know."

They sat beneath the ash tree in silence, the sun hitting the ground in the meadow where it was not blocked by clouds.

"I will write to you. And Charles. I know the lads said they would write, but-"

"We both would like to hear from you, as well as them. Don't forget to write to Daisy, too."

Sybil smiled. "How could I? She's my sister. Though," she chuckled, "I think most of what she writes will be private. Concerning one young apprentice." She glanced at Elsie. "Have you talked to Charles about them yet?"

"No. I was going to wait until you all were gone." Sighing, Elsie sat up straighter and called to the sheep. A few were straying towards the eastern edge of the meadow. Freya herded them back. During the Harvest Festival, they had bought several animals, replacing the ones that had been sold in Staithes. "He has something on his mind, though. I thought it might be just seeing the others off, but I think it's something else."

Edward and Alfred appeared on the brow of the hill. Thomas's mate pulled his cloak a little tighter around him as he approached. "We need to leave," he said quietly, looking at Sybil. "His Lordship wanted us back before sunset."

Reluctantly, Sybil got to her feet and Elsie did the same. She handed her crook to Alfred, who bade the other two a quick farewell.

Outside the house, Thomas hugged Daisy. "Now, don't do anything I wouldn't do," he ruffled her hair.

Charles and Daisy smiled knowingly at each other. The young man let his father embrace him. He could not quite bring himself to return it, but held still until Charles released him. He cleared his throat, looking away.

He felt a tiny bit guilty because he was excited to return to the palace. To the routine, to the life at court as it usually went. At the hall near Downton that summer, it had not been nearly as formal. There would be visitors throughout the autumn to attend, suitors courting Lady Mary. The king had mentioned that Master George would learn to ride.

No doubt Thomas would go with him, holding the rope as the little boy sat on his pony.

The thought of standing once more at the king's side as he greeted his noble guests, witnessing the great and the good from places far away, made him almost giddy.

 _There is a world beyond watching the sheep._

His family's open sadness at his departure made him uncomfortable. He was not entirely sure how he felt about it. He _would_ miss them, Daisy especially. He would miss Father and Elsie, too. The sharp edge of his anger with them was gone.

But he was ready to go home. Where he belonged.

To a place where he was not simply the shepherd's son. Where he would not have to come face-to-face with his mother's replacement more often than he wanted to. Even though they were friendly.

Edward, Sybil and Elsie joined them. The girls hugged each other fondly, promising to write. Sybil hugged Charles, and was visibly touched when he told her to take care of herself.

"These two will look after me," she pulled on Thomas and Edward's cloaks. The breeze picked up a little, bringing color to her cheeks. When she went to hug her mother one more time, Edward shook Charles's hand.

"Not to worry," he said. "We'll look after her. Nothing bad will happen to her, I promise."

"Thank you," Charles replied, though he knew the hidden goddess had nothing to fear from anyone at the palace. He hesitated for a moment, not knowing how Edward would respond, but then pulled him into a quick hug.

He was delighted when Edward hugged him back.

Elsie felt tears coming to her eyes even as she smiled. She put her hands to her face to keep back her emotion.

 _If he did not know he was part of this family before, he knows it now._

Thomas shifted his feet. Part of him was glad his father accepted Edward, and a part of him was annoyed that his mate showed more physical affection than he did.

 _What family does he have to go to?_ He reminded himself. _We're all the family he has._

 _It's not like you WANT to start hugging everyone like he does. You've never been like that._

 _Well, not for a long time._

Despite the truth, his discomfort grew when Edward gave Elsie a warm hug, and a kiss on the cheek. He had already told his stepmother goodbye, and wished her well. But that was all.

"Now we really must go," Sybil said finally. "We will send you word once we've arrived."

Daisy sniffed, and Charles put an arm around her.

"I expect you'll all be glad to see the back of me," a hint of Thomas's self-deprecation broke through. Daisy frowned and murmured no. Charles opened his mouth to protest but never got the chance to speak.

"Well _I_ won't." Real warmth shone in Elsie's eyes. "Give me a kiss."

 _No one could say no to her, not when she looks like_ _that_ _!_

He knew she meant what she said. She would miss him, scamp that he was.

Inside, he was glad of it.

She was pleased when Thomas smiled before kissing her cheek.

She, Charles, and Daisy stood crowded together as they watched the three go down the hill. They waved until they couldn't see them anymore.

Their evening meal was quiet. The loss of those who had left earlier in the day seemed to make the air thick. Daisy went to bed, saying she was tired, but her eyes were red. Elsie pulled the blanket across the room so as not to disturb her.

She was sweeping the floor when she was overwhelmed with sadness. The setting sun was visible through the open door, bathing part of the room golden. A spark of color before it would vanish.

Elsie leaned on her broom and cried.

Strong arms wrapped around her. "I would never tell you not to cry," Charles whispered. He kissed her temple, pulling strands of hair over her ear. "Not now, not ever. They are your friends, your people, in a way that I and Thomas and Daisy will never be. Of course you miss them. And," his voice wobbled, "To say goodbye to our children did not make the day any easier for you."

 _Or for me._

She knew he was right, yet she felt guilty for crying. She needed to be strong for _him_. She would see Beryl and the others again someday, after all.

They held each other for a while. She felt warm in his arms.

 _I have you._

 _And the grief is worth it._

He couldn't help smiling when she turned and reached up to wipe the tears that had gathered on his face. A cold breath of air made them both shiver.

The door creaked when Elsie held it open to go out. "After your prayers, light a fire in the hearth," she said quietly, meeting Charles's eyes. "We need to keep warm tonight. Anna was surprised to find me in the meadow today without one, though of course I said it wasn't needed."

"You should have had a fire out there. You were cold when you got back," Charles rubbed her arms. "I'm sure Alfred has made one by now."

"I was not about to, not while Sybil was there. We wanted to _talk_ , and…well…"

"I understand," he leaned down and kissed her. Even feeling sad, she felt her heart jump when his lips touched hers. "But while she's away, you should keep yourself warm while watching the flock. Freya and Remme will keep their own watch, remember."

"I remember. And I'm glad of their eyes," Elsie said, pulling her hood up. She smiled, the light returning to her eyes a little. "She said to tell you hello. Anna. I was glad to see her, it was good of her to visit. She was glowing…I expect John looks much the same."

"I'm sure he does. Newlyweds," he raised his eyebrows, and she laughed before taking a walk down the hill.

When she returned, he had blown out the candles on the little altar. A small fire crackled in the hearth. Despite herself, she was glad of its heat.

And that the blanket blocked it from view.

Still, they did not dare do anything. Even with Daisy sound asleep in the corner. Charles felt his body stir the instant he laid down, with Elsie's back against his chest. But the most he felt he _could_ do was whisper good night. She did the same.

It took her a long time to fall asleep.

But she did, in the loving arms of her husband.

* * *

 **A/N: Lots of gloom and sadness in this chapter. I'm sorry…life is really not that bad for them at this point, but I did want you all to see the gods one more time. Though after I got through all the goodbyes, I didn't want to get into what's on Charles's mind yet. That, along with normal life in Downton in autumn (funny – when I started typing this, I put** _ **winter**_ **first. Silly me!) will be in the next chapter. I'm hoping to post at least two more chapters in this before Christmas.**

 **If you have time, please leave a review. If there's anything you'd like to happen in autumn (within reason), I'll try to incorporate it.**

 **As ever, I DO NOT own Downton Abbey. I just love using canon quotes when I can, especially when they actually fit this very AU fic. :-D**


	49. The Fate of The Goddess

**A/N: There are several time jumps in this chapter. I hope it isn't too confusing.**

 **I'm sorry for the angst, but they had to have this conversation soon. Since Charles has been thinking about it for around six chapters. Believe me, I'd love to have nicer stuff - I hope the rest of the chapter makes up for it!**

 **As ever, I would love any reviews you can give me. Thank you so much for sticking with this never-ending story!**

* * *

"Will you tell me now?"

Elsie settled herself on the ground next to Charles. He swallowed a bite of his fish before pouring wine from the wineskin into her cup.

He did not meet her eyes.

She sighed, glancing up at the bright sky. Several sheep called behind her under the midday sun. "I know something has been troubling you. Because I'm your _wife_." She drank from her cup and was glad to see him half-smile.

"I don't like to trouble you."

Her heart melted. She set her cup down, hoping that he would let her help him. " _Trouble_ me, by all means! In every part of me, it is my duty to listen when you need to speak…as your wife, as your woman, as your mate. And," she raised her eyebrows slightly, "Especially as the Goddess. I will always listen to you. I always have. I _want_ to, Charles."

He felt a lump in his throat at the touch of her hand on his. Looking up, her beautiful blue eyes were clear.

"There is nothing that can be done about it," he said quietly. "I…would hate to cause you more pain."

 _She is still sad, missing our friends and children._

It had been nine days since they had bid the others farewell. Only the day before, they had received messages from Thomas and Sybil that the court had returned safely to the palace.

"It hurts me to see you distressed," her voice was steady. "You know I cannot read your mind at all, not while I am here. And I would not _want_ to, even if I was in divine form. Now, tell me what is going on before I have to beat you over the head with my crook!"

"All right," he chuckled, feeling more at ease seeing the twinkle in her eye. "Though it would be better to endure a beating than for my wife to banish me from our bed."

"Charles!" She shook her head and ran a hand through her wind-blown hair, the red strands glinting in the sun. "Tell me, you stubborn man," she said.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

How to start? He was not sure the right words would come.

"Everything that has been done to help us only does so until the end of my life. But what happens after I'm dead?" He tried not to rush the words. "I mean…I know what has been said regarding what happens, but what about you?"

"What about me?" She thought she knew what he was asking, and it endeared him to her. But it also sent a shard of anguish through her.

"Elsie." He squeezed her hand. There was compassion in his eyes. "I have been selfish, thinking only of myself…of the danger the God of Fire is to me, to our children, to everyone here. But when we were all together, with Beryl and the others before Anna's wedding, I was reminded of the sacrifice _you_ are making."

"It is nothing for you to worry about. I will be fine," she said quickly. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel guilt. "I chose this, I chose _us_ knowing full well what the consequence would be." She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it. "And I would do so again."

"I am very happy you think so," he murmured softly. "But love, please, I want you to understand. It is not guilt that made me say this-" the corner of his mouth turned up at her raised eyebrows, "-but concern for you. And Sybil." He let out a breath. "She is separated from her husband as long as she is here."

"Which she knew would happen as well. She made that choice."

Elsie did feel guilt thinking of her daughter. _She stays because I am here._

Charles shifted over until his leg rested against hers. "Nothing will change for her after I'm dead. Not really. But you…you will be married to Victor. Not because you wish it, but to appease your father."

A lump rose in her throat. "It is the way things must be," her voice shook. "I cannot think only of myself. My own desires matter much less than the peace of the world." _And among the gods._

Despite her best efforts, tears came to her eyes. He put an arm around her. She was glad of his warmth. She turned her face into his cloak, smelling his scent.

He knew she was right, but the thought of her unhappy made his heart ache. "What will you do after I die? I mean, can you tell me? Surely people will notice after many years if you and Sybil never age..."

It was something that had piqued his curiosity.

"My daughter and I can change our appearances," she explained thickly. An image of what Sybil's nose _should_ look like entered her mind. "Both she and I will appear to age like everyone else – wrinkles, grey hair, all of it. After you-you leave," she took a breath, unwilling to think of him dead, "I will depart as well. But I will make sure our children are all right. It will appear to Thomas and Daisy and everyone else that I am dead, of course." A tear escaped and ran down her cheek. "I do not want to hurt them, but there is no other way to protect them. Sybil will comfort them as only she can. I will return to my father and Victor, to keep my promise."

"And Sybil?"

"She will wait until Thomas and Daisy have joined you…then she will go home. Serving Lady Mary and others at court is a good way to ensure she is not bothered by mortal men. She can stay there for the rest of her time here."

"You both have spoken of this before," he wrapped his other arm around her, rubbing her back. "Well, it seems you've thought of everything."

They cuddled together as the clouds moved across the sky above them.

Something else bothered him. She could feel it.

"I worry about you. What will happen to you after I'm gone," he whispered into her hair. "Of course no one living knows for certain, but the priestesses teach that after Hades calls us away, and we go either to the fiery halls or to Elysium…they say we forget the gods."

She closed her eyes, feeling as though her heart was being squeezed inside her chest.

"Not completely," he murmured. "We remember who all of you are. As gods, as beings who helped us in life. That is what they say, anyway. But…I have often wondered if that means I will forget everything of you. Like you are now. This. Us." He rested his chin on top of her head. "I don't suppose you could tell me if it's true or not."

 _Or if you want to._

"Why does it matter if it is true or not?" She asked. "It changes nothing."

He knew she was stalling. She was tense in his arms.

Unbidden, a smile crept across his face. "No. But I am your husband." He kissed the top of her head. "And I care about what happens to you, even if I am not there to see it. I am here now. And I am listening. Tell me. Trouble me. I want to know the truth." He shifted slightly on the ground so her back was firmly against his chest, strengthening her. "Let me share some of your burden. Please. Like you do for me."

She started trembling. She was his wife, his woman, his mate. But as the goddess, it was her burden to carry alone the knowledge of what happened after he went to Elysium.

And yet, she could not deny that she longed to let go of her burden.

He _was_ her husband. He was listening. It would change nothing, his hearing the truth.

 _Let him comfort you. While he can._

 _If he can._

"You will forget," she said. Her voice cracked on the word. "You will remember Eala, the Goddess of Love. But you will forget Elsie the shepherdess. Oh, you will remember that you had a wife…and that you loved her. That she was beautiful. After a time in Elysium, though, you will not remember that she was anything other than a woman, or that she burned bread more often than not." Hot tears overflowed from her eyes. "You will not remember her face. Or her name."

Ceaseless time stretched before her. Being Eala, walking in the tall mountains. Sitting with Sybil and Tom. Talking with Beryl, William, and Albert.

Entering the Hall with the others. Victor at her side.

The thought of the God of Fire was not what gave her pain, strangely enough. Were he replaced with any other god, it would not matter. Because no one compared to Charles.

For years beyond count, she had given love to mortals. Some acknowledged the gift. Others did not – going so far as to question her existence. She was used to that. She gave love without expecting anything in return.

But here _she_ was loved. By this man, who somehow held her heart. She was cherished by the one being she loved over all others, breaking her impartiality towards the mortals.

Before she left home, she wondered how it was possible to live without love. That is what she intended to learn. Why she assumed mortal form.

Now she knew she would have to remember their love alone.

And the grief of it was terrible.

She would love Charles forever. He would forget her, and spend all of time blissfully unaware in Elysium of what he meant to her.

 _He will remember he once had a wife other than Alice, and that he loved her._

 _He_ _will_ _remember he loved you. Even after he forgets your name._

 _Hold on to that._

Isobel had told her once not to give in to despair, and she knew the priestess was right.

Still, she let herself weep for a moment.

He held her as she cried, trying to imagine what it would be like not remembering her.

He could not.

"Let us treasure every moment we have," he whispered. As feeble as it sounded, he wanted to try to encourage her. "Remember how much I love you _now_ , how much the shepherdess means to me. The way you protect me along with the flock. How you sing when you sweep out the hut in the morning. You think I can't hear you when I milk the goats," he smiled a little when she laughed shakily. She turned around in his arms to face him. He touched his forehead to hers. "How you burn the cheese more often than you burn the bread."

A full-throated laugh burst from her, even as she wiped her eyes.

"How you encourage the lads after I've yelled at them. How you cherish Daisy, and how you've touched Thomas's heart, despite his best efforts to keep you at arms' length."

Now it was his turn to have tears in his eyes.

"I do love you so," he murmured, pulling her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "If there was any way to spare you pain, I would do it."

"I know you would," she replied. He brushed his lips on her forehead, and she closed her eyes, relishing the simple pleasure of being loved.

The wind had picked up a little, making them both shiver. Charles bent his head and kissed Elsie. "Go back home after we've finished eating," he gestured to the half-filled basket of food still next to them. By some miracle, the dogs had left it alone. "I will build a fire here so I won't be cold when I join you at sunset. And you should have a fire inside, too…I know," he held up his hands when she raised her eyebrows, getting out the rest of the cheese and bread from the basket. "I know you do not like it, but there's no need for you to be cold all day. _I_ will not be there for a while, and if you have a nice fire in the hearth, the heat will linger for a while after it's gone out."

"And why would the fire go out after dark?" She asked wryly, picking up her forgotten cup of wine. "That is when we need light the most."

A real smile lit up his face, and his eyes danced. "We have five senses. But sight can be set aside for a time, because we have the others. To hear, to smell, to taste…"

"To touch." She finished, feeling her heartbeat race. The sudden color in his face, and the way his eyes moved from the crown of her head downward, made his intention clear.

They finished their meal, talking a little of the flock and of the need to graze the sheep beyond the meadow later in the autumn.

"To give this place a chance to grow back," Charles said, wiping crumbs of cheese off his cloak. "It always does. By the time spring comes again, it will be ready for them again."

He stood up when she went to leave, mostly to gather kindling from the ash tree for the fire. He was surprised when she grabbed his cloak and pulled him closer to her.

"Come home as near to sunset as you can," she breathed, their kisses growing more fervent. "The house will be dark and warm for you."

* * *

The daylight was nearly gone. He could barely make out the shape of the hearth after he had shut the door, but there was no need to see clearly. He was glad to know the room so well.

It would not do to trip over the low table, or bark his shin against the stone hearth now.

When he laid down on the sheepskin, making sure the thick blanket covered them, his wife's hand on his thigh made him moan aloud.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No," he gritted through his teeth, "But-Elsie, your _touch_ , what it does to me…"

He could have said her scent, or the taste of her lips, or the sound of her panting for breath as she helped him remove his belt.

Holding her in his arms, he was both not surprised and delighted to find she had already removed her clothing. Before he could move further, however, she took his hand in hers. It was a thrill for him to feel her move it without being able to see _where_ it would land.

Then he felt her press it against her mouth.

"You-you've been crying again," he stuttered, as she kissed one finger, then another, feeling his heightened desire as she flicked her tongue, tasting him.

"Yes," she admitted. She continued her ministrations, finishing with his fingers and placing an open-mouthed kiss on his palm, then his wrist. "But I feel so much better when you are with me. Help me, Charles," she whispered. She took his hand and moved it to the curve of her neck. Her collarbone.

He moaned when she moved his hand, pressing it to her breast. "I remember every time we've been together…help me to remember today."

Words faded as he touched her, tasted her soft skin. Smelled the faint scent of roses and the wild, crisp wind in her hair. He reveled in her crying out his name, asking him to touch her there-yes, _there_.

At times he thought he almost caught a faint glimpse of a glow beneath her skin. Especially as her pleasure grew.

Perhaps it had always been there. Her glory, hidden, but there nonetheless. Perhaps the darkness simply made it easier to see it.

He forgot all about sight, and everything else, as they came together. She hummed into his mouth then laughed out of sheer joy.

 _We are here, now. This cannot be taken away from us._

His hot breath on her naked shoulder, her fingers caressing his unruly curls. He shouted once. His voice seemed even louder in the pitch black.

She lay sated, half-asleep, when he got up to rekindle the fire on the other side of the hanging blanket. She did remember to roll over onto her side before he returned.

His chest was cold at first when she snuggled into him, but his hands caressing her hips and belly were warm.

"Will you remember this day?" He whispered, mindful of the crackling fire behind them. He wondered if she had fallen asleep already.

"Yes, I will."

He could hear the smile in her voice.

There was nothing else he wanted.

* * *

 _Sparks flew as he hammered the stubborn iron. Once, he would have enjoyed the struggle of bending it to his will._

 _But not lately._

" _When you have lost your joy in your work, I_ _know_ _something is wrong." Athena surveyed the rows of swords gleaming in the light of the forge. "Will you not tell me?"_

 _Victor grunted. "You are Wise. Surely you know the reason without me speaking it aloud."_

" _You miss your mortal friends. There is no shame in that, no matter what anyone tells you."_

" _And yet," he snarled, "You continue to tell me that the risk of looking through the fire for them is too great, that I should not even try to catch a glimpse of them!"_

 _He had looked into the fire more than once, despite her counsel. Watching John working with the lads. Anna had recently made friends with Jane, a young widow who lived nearby. It made him happy to see her happy. Laughing._

 _Especially because a few times he had seen her in her own home, she had been crying. Sometimes with John comforting her, but sometimes alone._

 _He could not look long enough to hear why._

 _But he could guess._

 _He was powerless to help Anna, but it made him angry to think that the one divine being who could was nearby. And doing nothing._

 _Again._

 _It did not help to think of Eala. Though he did anyway._

 _Athena watched one of his automatons fire up the bellows. She was well aware of his inner torment. But she dared not speak to him about the Goddess of Love._

 _She had never lied to Victor, and did not want to start._

" _I only counseled caution to you," she said, ever calm. "I simply did not want a repeat of what happened at John and Anna's wedding."_

" _I know." His voice was softer. "I just…miss them."_

" _That is to your credit. I am sure they feel the same." She paused, counting the swords he had finished. "I see my brother has come to see you."_

" _Yes." Victor hammered the sword in the fire. It glowed red. "He is on the warpath once again."_

 _He did not agree with it, but when Marcas had come to him asking for weapons, he made them._

" _He never learns."_

 _The Master of Fire raised an eyebrow, staring at his friend. "_ _You_ _often go to war."_

" _Need I remind you of the difference between us?" She asked, holding one of the weapons in her hand and swinging it back and forth. "_ _ **I**_ _go to war for a just cause only, or to save lives. Marcas fights to satisfy his bloodlust, for violence. He cares nothing for the mortals that are slaughtered, for the hatred that is sparked between them. He encourages it!"_

" _The King should intervene more often. For the mortals' sake, if not for ours."_

 _Athena shook her head, twirling with the sword. "You know Him too well for that. If He does not get involved for His own purposes, then He lets Marcas run riot – until my dear brother goes too far."_

" _He has not stopped Marcas for a long time. Perhaps it is past time that He does so."_

" _Perhaps. More likely He will ask me or you to do it for Him. That is what He usually does."_

 _Victor shook his head, setting the sword into water. Steam gushed everywhere. "I do not look forward to fighting the God of War."_

" _Nor I. Not that it is good for mortals anywhere-" she sighed, "-but it is well Marcas's intentions for war are far from your friends. I am glad for their sake."_

" _As am I."_

* * *

The air grew chillier as the days passed. Rain fell, not hard, but at a steady rate. The dampness made fires a necessity everywhere.

They could not speak openly unless they were both outside, away from fires. Intimacy was fraught with danger.

"I feel like I am testing your restraint just being here," Charles said one bleak morning, east of the meadow. Water dripped from Elsie's hood. Strands of her hair curled beneath it. To his surprise, she smiled at him.

"You are. But it will not last forever – the rain has to stop sometime! And maybe it will be a clear night during the half-moon…" her hand slid up the glistening skin on his arm.

"And maybe Daisy will visit the day _after_ ," he choked out, suddenly feeling warm despite the cold. Her eyes widened.

"For shame! Do you not want to see our daughter, the closest child we have to us?"

"Of course I do-" he blustered, indignant that she thought he wouldn't want to see his own daughter.

Elsie laughed. She playfully nudged him with the end of her crook. " _I_ know you do, you silly man," she teased. "Thank you for the spiced wine. It has warmed me up. But you need to go back to the house and sleep." She looked up at the dark grey sky, where the rain was coming down as steady as ever. "I won't have you catching a chill."

"Very well," he said softly, seeing the genuine concern in her eyes. They kissed while the sheep bawled in the distance.

He knew he had to go, but the _taste_ of her. He opened his mouth, feeling her tongue slip over his. The rain heightened the sweetness of honey, the crispness of apple, the leftover spice from the wine. And of course the ever-present scent of roses, and the salt of the far-away sea…

How she loved the feel of his mouth. His soft lips melded to hers. The way the warmth of his body spread over her, despite the rain and the cold. She loved the scent of him – the earth and wind that he was surrounded by so often; a far-away echo of the flowering trees in summer. And something else, something she could not define, but a scent that was simply him.

It intoxicated her. As much as it had done the first time they kissed, under another rainy sky.

She gasped. "Go," she murmured, her hand on his chest. Her eyes were dark. "I want you, but this is no place for it." East of the meadow, there were rocks scattered everywhere in the open plain.

He growled in the back of his throat. His hands circling her waist. "I don't mind. You would not have to touch the ground."

"Charles, don't tempt me." It was all the more difficult because unlike their first kiss, she knew exactly how tempting he was.

She took a shuddering breath and shook her head. Reluctantly, she stepped away from him. "I would hate for Daisy to come home, and for you to be sneezing the entire time."

He sighed, wiping his face in a vain attempt to dry his face. "She has been coming home more often than I thought she would," he commented, whistling to Ve. Elsie bit her lip.

 _Do you really not see_ _why_ _? It is not only to see us, husband._

She had not yet found an opportunity to talk to him about a certain apprentice.

They had three straight days of no rain and milder weather before Daisy's arrival. It meant there were more memories for the couple to make together.

One they both enjoyed was the morning she came back from watching the flock during the night. Making love in the light of day brought its own rewards.

He went off to watch the sheep with an extra spring in his step later in the morning. His skin was tinged with the scent of honey, and his hair smelled faintly of roses.

She woke refreshed at midday. Had someone seen her walking to the lake later to fish, they would have seen a very happy woman whistling, with a certain sway in her hips. Her cheeks rosy, and her lips plump.

Daisy came home two days after the half-moon. She brought a new woven tunic for her father, and news from friends for her mother.

She had not seen much of Anna. But when she did see the blacksmith's wife in the village, she was as friendly as ever. Daisy wondered why Anna had stopped coming to Phyllis's house, but she had heard the young woman had become friends with a neighbor.

Isobel was busy training three new temple girls. She still kept company with Richard – at times, Ivy would come to Joseph and Phyllis's home near sunset, apologizing. They always let the girl sleep there for the night.

"I wonder how much sleep she does get when she stays there," Elsie muttered. "The two of you chattering past the second watch about boys…"

Master Bill was over the moon about his first grandchild coming. He had woven so many little blankets and tiny tunics his son asked him to stop.

"Master Joseph said the poor child would grow too big for most of it before all of it could be worn," Daisy said. "Of course he's happy his father is so excited!"

The weaving went on.

Phyllis was doing well. Her only complaint was that her child sometimes woke her with his or her kicking.

"I do the baking on those mornings that she sleeps a bit later," Daisy told Elsie, pouring a few drops of honey into the dough. "I told her I don't mind, but I think she feels guilty about it."

"She should not," Elsie said. She sprinkled more flour to keep her piece of dough from sticking. Remme whimpered, brushing against Daisy's leg. The girl turned with a smile. She dropped several raisins so the dog could gobble them up.

"She's ill," Daisy kneaded her dough once more. "Freya," she answered Elsie's furrowed brow. "Haven't you noticed? She's…slower. And I think she's gained weight. Is Papa feeding her more scraps?"

"No. She has been quieter than usual," Elsie pursed her lips. A niggling thought came to her mind.

 _It is possible._

"Well, I'm going to Downton when we're finished, to find Master Richard," Daisy fretted, worried. "I want to know if something is wrong with her, don't you?"

"Of course I do! As does your father. He's protective of the dogs as well as the sheep." Elsie raked through the coals, watching them glow red. "I think it's hot enough for the bread. What do you think?"

"Perfect," Daisy went to put on her cloak while Elsie set both of their pans carefully into the fire to bake. "Now, I should be back before it's ready to come out, so wait for me, please!"

"Put your hood up. It's windy out there," Elsie clapped her hands together, ridding them of flour. Daisy opened the door. "Why should I wait for you? Don't you trust me with the bread?"

The girl grinned, her dimples showing. "No, I don't." She stuck her tongue out at her stepmother before fleeing outside.

Elsie laughed as she swept the floor. "Clever girl," she mused, shaking her head.

Richard came back with Daisy. After a brief check of Freya, he was glad to be invited into the warm house. Charles came in out of the cold as well. Both men gladly ate some of the fresh bread. Richard seemed to like the honey-scented loaf very much.

"Freya's not ill," he reassured the family. "She's pregnant."

"Really?" Daisy squealed, putting her hands to her face. "Is she really? Oh, Papa! We don't have to sell the whole litter, do we?"

Charles wore a dumbfounded look on his face. "I…am not sure how this happened," he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone in the room.

"Oh, don't you?" Elsie muttered under her breath, arching an eyebrow. She was not surprised. Ve and Freya had been all over each other ever since Sybil had sent the female dog to her in the spring. She was a little surprised it had taken so long.

Richard laughed. "So, Charles, you have a fine sheepdog who decided he wanted to sire a litter without your consent. There are worse things that can happen. Freya is healthy, and according to you she's already given birth at least once-" He looked toward Elsie for confirmation. She nodded. "-so there should not be any problems."

He gave them some instructions as to what to look for. Charles recovered enough to see the practical arrangements the situation brought. He had grown up around dogs, and could tell how far along she was.

"By the time your brother and sister come home, she will have her puppies," Charles said later during the evening meal. "And to answer your question, Daisy, I think we will have to sell the entire litter, once they're born."

She slumped next to him. "We can't keep even _one_?"

"Why not?" Elsie asked, setting down a bowl of piping hot potatoes. Charles sighed.

"Because we already have three fine sheepdogs," he said, in a voice that brooked little opposition. "And both Richard and I agree Freya is not expecting a larger than usual litter. If she were, then _maybe_ we could keep one. I'm sorry," he said in a gentler tone to Daisy. "But it is not practical. I am surprised you're so upset, though. Remme is more your dog than anyone else's."

"That is true. If she didn't watch the flocks, she would be following you around all the time." Elsie patted Daisy on the shoulder. "But it is different to raise a wee pup from birth, rather than acquire one after she's already grown."

She hoped to get Charles to change his mind. But after reading the latest letter from the palace (from Edward), he was convinced that selling the litter was the right thing to do.

The king's favorite hunting dog had recently died. In the past, Charles had sent him puppies. He resolved to send Robert one after Freya gave birth. The other puppies would be sold to local farmers. Alfred said he would like to buy one for himself, to train it to watch the flock. Charles thought that was very wise of him.

Both Ve and Remme were very protective of Freya. Ve often hunted for his own food, but took to bringing it to his mate. Remme hardly left her mother's side, except when watching the flocks.

Sybil wrote to Elsie quickly after receiving her letter.

 _How wonderful for Freya! I look forward to seeing her when we come home. It sounds as though she is being well cared for. Try to keep Charles and especially Daisy from worrying about her too much._

 _As you know, Freya was always liked Grandfather's dogs. I would never have guessed she would be that fond of a_ _mortal_ _dog. She must be more like you than like me!_

"Cheeky!" Elsie snorted, rolling up the scroll as she leaned against the well. The air was cold, but the sun was bright and felt good on her face.

"What does she say?" Charles asked, pulling the bucket up. He set it down on the ground.

"Here, read for yourself."

He laughed, bent over the papyrus. "Is it true? Does a mortal strike your fancy more than anyone in the divine realm?" He wagged his eyebrows at her. She groaned, rolling her eyes.

"You know it's true." She kissed him on the cheek before picking up the bucket of water. He followed her inside.


	50. Birth

**A/N: Fifty chapters. FIFTY. How did THAT happen? Major, MAJOR thanks to everyone who has read this story so far. Even if you never review or reblog, thank you. Every view counts as someone who wants to read my writing, and I am more grateful than I can possibly say.**

 **Thank you so much to the sweet guest reviewer, who never wants this fic to end. And also for saying something that I need to hang on my wall: "We can't change the past and it is pointless to worry about what might happen in the future." Very wise.**

 **Thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter as well! The website is SO frustrating. They sure don't make it easy, do they?**

 **Well, my plan was to post one last chapter before Christmas, but there was too much to say in this one, and the next is too important for me to just tack on at the end, so…I'll try to post again before then. Mister and I will be traveling and seeing family, so please forgive me if I don't get to the next chapter before the holiday. I have another pending project on my to-do list as well.**

 **Small TW for a bit of heartache.**

 **I do hope to post again before the end of the week but if I don't, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas! Cheers!**

* * *

Anna and John's home sat in a meadow below the slope of a hill. Several pine trees stood at the top, sheltering the house from view.

"You must be happy to have the hill behind you, especially in the autumn," Elsie said one blustery day. The two women sat weaving a blanket on a loom borrowed from Master Bill. "It shields your home from the wind."

"Yes. It's part of why John wanted it here. And our nearest neighbors are out of sight…" Anna's cheeks went a little pink, but she smiled through her blush. There was a knowing smile on Elsie's face.

They talked a little of Jane, the farmer's widow who lived nearby, and her son Freddie. Elsie had met them once before.

"She was very nice. Though I admit she was in a rush when I saw her – they were leaving the village, going home. She does not seem like the sort of person who ever sits down!"

"She hardly can, except now in the autumn," Anna replied, finishing one row of the blanket and beginning another. "She told me she likes to come visit as often as she can now. Once spring comes again, she and Freddie will hardly leave their land. Planting the crops, working the land…" Her voice trailed off. "I remember those days when I was a child. Sometimes it felt like Gracie and I didn't see Dad for days. Still, we did have good times."

She sniffed, looking away for a moment, before regaining her composure.

Elsie waited. She knew what was coming, it was only a matter of time before the young woman said it aloud.

"How are you feeling today?" She asked gently. Anna nodded, ever stoic.

"Fine. John was worried about how much I bled, but Richard insisted I rest more and Isobel brought me a large amount of dried grapes from the temple vines two days ago. Freddie has been here almost every day. He feeds the goats and gets water from the well so I don't have to carry it. It comforts John to know I'm not trying to do _everything_ by myself."

"And I am glad of it, too. You can be quite stubborn," Elsie shooed the cat away from the basket of wool. "You look well, Anna. I am glad to see it. But I wasn't asking about your health."

"I know," Anna muttered, not looking at her. She concentrated rather intently on her next stitch. "I'm fine. Really," the corners of her lips turned up, but it was painful to see the hurt in her eyes. "John and I have a lot to be thankful for. We have each other, our lovely home, and good friends."

"Yes." Elsie leaned over and put her hand over the younger woman's, forcing her to stop. "Still, a broken heart can be as painful as a broken limb."

A tear leaked out of Anna's eye, and she brushed at it impatiently. "Don't feel sorry for me, Elsie. I'm not. It's just…" she sighed, and dropped her hands to her lap. "John says he's happy, but I know he wants a child as much as I do."

"I know it's not what you want to hear, but you have not been married long." Elsie tried to reassure her. "You are young yet."

"It doesn't seem fair," Anna went on. "Phyllis is older than I am, and she conceived right after she and Joseph married. And everything is fine with her. I lost our baby before I ever felt anything!"

"It does no good to compare yourself. With her, or with anyone." Elsie put an arm around her.

"I know," Anna whispered, "But it's hard not to." Leaning her head on Elsie's shoulder, she tried to stop her tears from dripping off of her chin. "I am happy for Phyllis. And Joseph. They deserve to be happy, and it isn't that I don't want them to be…"

"But it's hard to visit her now."

"Yes."

"Well," Elsie said, "I think she understands. But the last time I visited them she said she missed you."

Anna took a deep breath and sat up, pulling her hair back. "I miss her, too. The next time I walk to Downton I'll go see her. We can walk to the temple and back. Surely Joseph won't think that's _too_ far." She grinned, her eyes lighting up. "He does dote on her. It's very sweet."

"Was he ever going to be anything else but sweet?" Elsie reached for the stitch on the loom and finished it.

They talked a little of the village, of the new girls at the temple.

"It seems like a long time ago when I lived there," Anna said, building up the fire when she noticed Elsie shiver. "My faith has changed since those days."

"Has it? Has your husband convinced you the gods don't exist?" Even knowing her answer, Elsie knew she would rather hear it from Anna herself.

"Of course not! But with everything that has gone on lately, I've just been wondering if I've been wrong about the gods."

"In what way?" Elsie took a bite of an apple, relishing its tartness.

"I thought they were more…straightforward, I guess." Anna sat down again next to her. The fire crackled cheerfully behind them. "We pray to them like we should, and they give us what we ask for. Well, most of the time," she ran a hand through her hair. "I know our prayers are not always answered the way _we_ want them to. But Mum and Dad taught us if we are faithful to the gods, they will answer us. I've prayed to them my whole life. I've always prayed to the Divine Lady…"

"Always?" Elsie quirked a smile, raising an eyebrow only slightly. Anna gave her a small smile.

"Well, not _always_ , but I've been a devoted believer all my life."

"I'm sure you have. But maybe the gods think differently than we do." Elsie curled her feet beneath her. "If they only blessed those who prayed to them, a lot of people would be left out."

"True. But that doesn't seem fair to faithful people. Look at Charles!" Anna pulled her shawl further around her shoulders. "He's the most devout man we know. John says if the gods were real _and_ they were just, your husband would be richer than the king and have a dozen healthy children around him."

It occurred to her as the words left her mouth that the shepherdess had never said a word to her about having any more children.

Her friend looked away, biting her lip, and Anna was ashamed of herself.

She sucked in a breath. "Elsie, I am _so_ sorry…I wasn't thinking."

 _Why did I say that!?_

 _She's not too old, surely. If she had Sybil young…_

"I should not have said anything about…it-it is none of my concern…" she stuttered.

Elsie took a deep breath and gave her a hug. "You have been open with me," she said into the young woman's ear. "I should do the same with you."

 _Well, some things._

"The truth is…" she stood back and looked Anna in the eye. "Charles and I will never have children together. It is my fault."

 _More than you will ever know._

 _And not because I wish it._

Anna squeezed her hands. "You should not blame yourself. And you never know…surely the Divine Lady will answer your prayers."

They both laughed quietly, remembering their conversation.

"Maybe," Elsie said, feeling tears in her eyes. "But I believe our family has all the children in it that we will ever have."

Something in her resigned expression made Anna's heart ache. "I share my troubles with you, and all the while you've got ones of your own. All I did was make it worse for you."

"You never could," Elsie tucked a bright strand of hair over her ear. "You help me by being a good friend. By listening."

They embraced again, and Elsie let herself cry a little. She felt Anna's pain more keenly, having heard her speak of it openly, as well as knowing her heart.

"John _is_ rubbing off on me," Anna sniffed, dabbing under her eyes with her fingers. She gave Elsie a watery smile. "Now I'm doubting the gods' existence…it _really_ isn't fair to you, or Charles."

"The gods are many things, but fair is not one of them," Elsie sighed. "Think of it this way, though – it can go the other way, too. We many think of fairness as something that we _don't_ have. But who knows? Ten autumns from now, you may wish you had a bigger house to keep your many children!"

 _I should not encourage her._

 _It does no harm to let her dream._

 _Especially when_ _ **you've**_ _already made up your mind to give her and John what they want._

 _Someday._

 _Just because I will not have any more children, does not mean she will not have any._

Later that evening back at home, she cleaned a new sheepskin. She scrubbed until her fingers were raw. It was very difficult not to regret decisions that had been made, even knowing she had made the right one.

 _My love for Charles is enough. He understands why we cannot have children._

But her resolve wavered a little when she thought of Alice. Of the children Charles's first wife lost before Thomas was born.

She wondered if she had done the right thing.

 _Charles could have had a houseful of bairns to raise instead of two._

 _It would have been a different life for him._

She reminded herself of the year the flocks were decimated by an illness. Another year, the floods carried away his best ewe and two of his rams.

 _It was for the best._

 _Had there been a houseful of people to feed, they would not have survived._

 _Alice was not strong. She was ill for a long time! Hades would have taken her earlier._

 _Thomas and Daisy had her for more years than she would have had, than if she had given birth to other children._

Thomas did not understand that. Not that he would ever know. Elsie sighed ruefully, stretching her sore fingers.

He should have been the one listening about fairness from the gods, she thought. Her son was always so sensitive to the things he did not have. How little he was aware of the gifts he had been given.

 _He is more aware now. More than he was before._

 _He is still growing, and learning._

She hoped that someday he would pray to the gods. Even if he ignored her, Eala. She knew how willing the gods were to listen to someone who had never spoken to them before. When prayers came from a sincere heart.

It was Edward's prayer she remembered. She sat on the floor, staring into the fire. A young lad, thrown out of his home by his blood family. He would have had every reason to hate the gods. To be angry and bitter, lashing out at anyone who tried to get close to him.

But he did not.

Why did some mortals keep their faith when they had so little, and others never seemed satisfied even when they had been given everything?

 _It is far more complicated seeing it up close, in mortal form, than from my garden far away._

 _I love them. Charles above all, Daisy and Thomas too. Dear Edward. Anna, John, Phyllis, Joseph, Master Bill, May, Richard, Ivy, the priestesses…_

 _And that is why it is better for me to be detached from mortals. It is one thing to be fond of my daughter and son-in-law, and my friends. But the people's lives here are so short._

 _The last thing I want is to cause more upheaval._

Her reverie was interrupted when Charles came in. She shivered at the cold air that followed behind him, and hastily built up the fire. He glanced at it, then back at her, his eyebrows together, but sighed in relief when he felt its warmth.

As much as he did not like the reminder of the Master of Fire, the god's gift was a welcome one when autumn came.

"I am sorry I didn't wait for you. I already ate." Elsie handed him a bowl of fish and a boiled potato. The food was still warm. "I thought Andy was watching the flock nearer to sunset."

"There was no need to wait for me. Not if you were hungry." He smiled at her and held his cup as she filled it with wine.

They sat in companionable silence while he ate. She continued to clean the sheepskin, frowning as she tried to brush out the tangled parts.

"I talked to Andrew before I came in. That is why I was late."

"Oh? About taking the flock further to the south?"

"No. About Daisy."

Elsie stopped what she was doing and looked up at him. She sat back on her heels. He smiled at her, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

"Don't tell me you didn't _know_."

"Know what?" She asked, her hands on her knees. Her face told him nothing. He raised his eyebrows and she looked down.

Charles pursed his lips, trying not to laugh. "That they…like each other. Very much."

"Maybe I did," she admitted.

"And you thought I would overreact, so you said nothing."

"What did you say to Andy?" She set aside the sheepskin, suddenly wondering if the lad had been chased from their land.

He brushed his hands off and sighed. "I told him that he and our daughter were far too young to promise themselves. I didn't tell him to stay away from her," he held up his hands. "But I told him to remember how young they both are. And that you and I, Thomas, Sybil, Edward and Remme would be keeping a very close eye on him."

Elsie laughed, feeling better. " _Especially_ Remme." Daisy was clearly the dog's favorite. "You don't mind do you?" She asked.

Charles picked up his cup. "As long as he behaves himself, and she doesn't kiss him in front of me, then no. I don't mind."

"Good." Elsie inhaled through her nose. "They only make love near the source of the stream, anyway. Well out of anyone's view."

He spluttered, and spat out his wine.

" _Elsie!_ "

She fell sideways laughing. His face was redder than the fire. Coughing, he tried to speak while she hiccupped.

" _Please_ tell me that was a joke," he rasped, pounding his chest. He was almost sure it was, but he had to be sure. Or Andrew would not live to see the dawn.

"Of course it was," she snorted, and set herself laughing all over again. "They've hardly touched each other, not to worry." _Their kissing is improving, though._ "You make it much too easy to tease you." Her eyes shone with love for him, her silly man.

"That…that wasn't funny, Elsie," he said weakly, his heart beating normally again.

"I think it was!"

When she winked at him, even he had to laugh.

* * *

Before they knew it, autumn was half over.

Elsie grew more used to the cold, to stealing moments in the rare sunshine that brought warmth.

She and Charles stole what moments they could together. With the ever-present fires and persistent chill, it was difficult.

But it added a certain excitement when they were alone.

Sometimes they were content to savor each kiss, every touch. At other times, he was unable to hold back his need for her, and her desire was no less as strong.

On the third night after mid-autumn, no one slept in the house.

Not the master, nor the mistress. Or their visiting children who were home.

And certainly not the dogs.

"Is she going to be all right?" Daisy whispered, looking toward the half of the room that was hidden behind the blanket. Freya whined again, and Daisy grabbed Thomas's arm so hard he winced.

" _Ouch!_ Easy," he grunted as the sound of Father's voice crept to their ears. "Yes, I'm sure she'll be fine."

He hoped she would.

Ve barked, and both Edward and Sybil grabbed him. He lunged against their arms but could not break their grip.

"Shhh," Sybil petted the upset animal, her hand rubbing his back. "You don't want to frighten your mate, now."

"Why do you talk to him like he can understand you?" Thomas stifled a yawn.

"Because he can," the dark-haired young woman said. She stared back at his incredulous expression. "It does no harm to talk to him. The important thing is to keep him calm."

Elsie drew back the blanket, holding out an empty bucket. "Could one of you get some more water, please?"

Before anyone could move, Daisy leaped to her feet and grabbed the bucket. She ran out the door, taking a torch with her.

"She's more nervous than Ve," Thomas mused. He was just as anxious as his sister was, but did not want to show it.

"And could someone fetch me another blanket, or scrap of cloth? Charles, is that what-" Elsie turned, having a murmured conversation with her husband. "Yes, that's what we need."

Edward started to get up, but the moment he loosened his hold on Ve, the dog began to wriggle free. He gripped the animal's body between his knees, trying to get him to sit down again.

Thomas stretched, and glanced at the corner nearest him. Bits of wool and a ragged blanket were still gathered there. Freya had been nesting for days, Daisy had told him when he and the others had gotten home. They had expected her to give birth before mid-autumn, but it had not happened yet.

He got up, feeling his knees crack, and grabbed the old blanket.

"Thank you, Thomas," Elsie smiled at him and took it. A moment later, the fire in the hearth fluttered when Daisy came back in. She handed the half-full bucket of water to her stepmother and sat back down next to Edward.

"Aren't you going to sit?" She looked up at Thomas, who was staring into the fire.

"Huh? No," he rubbed his face. "If I do, I'll fall asleep."

He must have been more tired than he thought. The flames were mesmerizing. He shook himself, then leaned against the wall.

They did not have to wait much longer.

Daisy squealed when Elsie told them there were four puppies born.

"Only four?" Thomas said. "That doesn't seem like many. Usually there are more to a litter than that."

"Never mind him, Daisy," Edward clapped him on the back fondly. "He just wishes he could have a puppy, too!" He let go of Ve, who vanished behind the blanket.

Sybil slipped her cloak on, grinning. "I'll go tell Alfred and Andy. They wanted to know as soon as possible."

Charles emerged from behind Elsie. A small bundle was in his hands. "Tell them there are two females and one male," he said to Sybil. "They're already eating well. Freya is doing _very_ well. No worries there."

"What about that one?" She asked, pointing at the bundle. A tiny nose was visible. Charles looked down, his eyebrows together. Elsie put her hand over his.

"This one is having a bit of trouble," she said, her eyes worried. "She should be fine, but she can't seem to get her breath."

The little thing huffed a heavy sigh. She looked barely bigger than a dark, hairy mouse to Thomas.

"So three females, one male," Sybil tried to smile. "Well…I know she's in good hands," she met Charles's eyes, "So I'll go tell the lads now. I won't be long." She went outside, careful to shut the door behind her.

"I want to hold her," Daisy leaned over her father's arm.

"I'm sure you do." Elsie started to turn Charles her direction, to get him to hand the puppy to Daisy. But a hint of something flickered in her eyes when she saw Thomas.

"Would you like to hold her?"

"What? Me?" He looked from his stepmother to his father and back again, wondering if she was joking. "No, Daisy can-"

"I think you should hold her," Elsie said, gently easing the puppy from Charles's reluctant hands.

 _Trust me,_ her eyes told him. He did.

Thomas held out his hands awkwardly, cupping them as though he was about to drink water from the stream. Elsie gave the little female to him. He bent over a little, so the puppy was both in his hands and resting against his belly at the same time.

Unconsciously, he started to hum.

 _Come on,_ he thought, rubbing his thumb over the puppy's back. She blinked. Her pink tongue appeared, then vanished again before she snuffled her nose against his palm. The sensation tickled.

He coughed to cover up a laugh.

The puppy licked his finger.

"She thinks you're her mum," Daisy murmured. Thomas looked up in surprise. He had forgotten anyone else was there.

Edward's eyes were the softest he had ever seen. Thomas felt himself beginning to blush. He was well aware if he and Edward were alone, they would be kissing.

"Here," he turned to Daisy, "you can take her-"

Both his sister and Charles spoke at the same time.

"That's all right-"

"You can take her back to Freya-"

"Here," Elsie pulled back the blanket, so he could go through. "If she's trying to eat from you, she's ready to eat from her mother." She patted Thomas's back as he passed her. It was a loving gesture, one that embarrassed him a little.

But he hardly minded, either.

He did not see his father and Elsie hold hands, sharing a quiet moment of joy.

He was too busy settling the puppy with her sisters and brother, and watching Ve touch his nose to hers, and Freya feed her.

* * *

Daisy got to hold all of the puppies in the days that followed. Everyone did.

Both Freya and Ve tolerated the two-legged creatures around them cuddling their babies, because they knew their little ones would come to no harm.

And in the end, none of the puppies were sold.

Alfred decided to buy one of the females, to train her to watch the flock and to hunt. But when he offered Charles and Elsie his price, they refused.

"She is our gift to you," the shepherdess said to the delighted apprentice. "Save your money for later."

A second female, who possessed a keen sense of smell, was selected for the king. She would be sent to the palace when she was old enough to be away from her mother.

The one male of the litter was a gift for John and Anna. They came to visit before the puppies were seven days old, and fell in love with him. He was sweet-natured, and took to them right away.

The pup who had been held so gently by Thomas took to the whole family, as well as to the apprentices. When she was not snuggling with her mother, she liked to be held by Charles especially.

According to Sybil, she looked almost exactly like her older sister Remme.

"Do I have a rival?" Elsie teased Charles one morning, finding him crooning to the sleeping creature under his breath.

"Only when Thomas is not awake," he whispered, grinning at her. Silver hairs glinted in the morning light amidst his black hair, and Elsie smoothed his stubborn curl back. "I have to take my chances when I get them!"

It was already clear that Thomas was the puppy's favorite. The two were enamored with each other. She had fallen asleep on him more than once, and someone had had to carry her to her mother to be fed.

"We cannot sell her," Elsie sighed when she held the puppy in her arms. "I know what you said before, Charles, but I simply will _not_ give her up. Not now. Your children will never forgive you if you sell her after she's weaned. Or give her away, either."

He nodded solemnly. "I would never forgive _myself_ if I let that happen."

He gave his surprised wife a lingering kiss, and went to watch the flock.

And that was how they ended up keeping one of the puppies. They named her Nosi.


	51. Prayers

"Sit up, George. Chin up."

Robert walked backwards next to the little pony. His grandson squared his shoulders, furrowing his brow in concentration. Thomas fought not to laugh as he held the rope guiding the animal.

"There's a good lad." The king encouraged George, smiling at the boy. "You are a born rider. Like your mother. Your father became quite good at it, too. He learned fast." Beside Robert, his Master of Horses, Bernard, nodded his approval.

"He's doing well, Your Lordship."

Weak sunshine shone on them and the palace behind them. It did not give much warmth. Thomas's fingers were cold.

"I think that is enough for one day," Robert came to a halt. "We don't want to overdo it." He motioned for Thomas to lift George off.

"More, Donk," George pleaded. He shook his head when Thomas dropped the halter and held out his hands.

Sighing, Robert raised his eyebrows. "Not today. We are finished now, but you can ride tomorrow." He craned his neck, looking up. "As long as it doesn't rain. Again."

Bernard laughed under his breath, patting the pony. "He reminds me of his mother. She always wanted to ride longer."

"As did I, once." Robert drew his cloak further around him.

"Off we go, Master George," Thomas swung him off, and set him gently on his feet. Bernard took the pony toward the stables. The other three, with George holding his grandfather's hand, walked at a slower pace behind him.

"I want to ride again soon," the king murmured. "It has been far too long."

"Will the queen let you, Your Lordship?" Thomas asked. Robert smiled wistfully.

"I hope so. I am _much_ better. Thank you for reminding her of that." They walked over grass beaten down by rain, and around puddles.

"And thank you for not mentioning Master George's new name for me in front of the other servants. They'll hear it soon enough, and no doubt will get considerable pleasure out of it." Robert was half amused, and half perplexed. "The devil if I know where he got the name, but it seems to have stuck. Of course the queen and Lady Mary love it."

Thomas knew where the name came from. But he was not about to tell the king.

His sister Sybil, on one rainy autumn day, had played with him and Master George. The boy had numerous carved wooden toys, and had insisted on naming all of them after his relations. Granny was a doe, and Grandmama was a tiger. Mama, he said, was a lioness. Great-granny was the dragon.

"Which one is your grandfather?" Thomas had asked, holding up different animals. "The stag? Or the dog? He loves Drini very much."

George had shaken his head, his blond hair flopping into his eyes.

" _I_ know," Sybil had grinned. "What about the donkey?"

George had giggled so hard he had gotten hiccups. He had started calling his grandfather "Donk" after that. Thomas thought it a miracle that Sarah or one of the other maids had not yet told the others.

He had only told Edward. But of course his mate would never tell anyone, either.

That night he sighed, seeing that Father had sent him another letter. His had been unfinished for days.

He knew he really should finish it.

 _Dear Father,_

 _I am sorry I have not written sooner. Life at court has been busy, to say the least._

 _One suitor leaves after trying to woo Lady Mary, and another comes to take his place. And now there are two here at once! Edward is run off his feet, poor lad. He waits on both of them. One is Lord Anthony from Gillingham. You would like the other man's name – Sir Charles. I cannot remember where his home is. He travels often, and carries news with him from places far away._

 _We were worried for some days before the last full moon. The king was quite ill, more so than anyone knew. The queen hardly let anyone attend him except for me and Master Henry. Lady Mary insisted on meeting with Master Julian while her father recovered. The Steward did not like that very much._

 _I think Lady Mary liked it very well._

 _The healers say the king is better now. For once, they tell the truth. His color is good, and he has begun to come along while Master George learns to ride. The pain he complained of before is nearly all gone. Of course the healers all say it was_ _their_ _doing that restored the king to health, but I think it is thanks to the queen that he is back to his usual self. She instructed the cook to cut away the fat portions of his meat. Those are his favorites, but he eats now with little grumbling. She also told me not to give him so much wine. I serve him before her, as you know, but I could not argue with her. If the king has noticed his cup is not as full, he has said nothing to me._

 _Perhaps I risk too much telling even you, but I thought you would want to know. Be assured the king is now well. He loves hosting guests, and there have been more this autumn than anyone can remember for many years. They have kept his spirits up. Along with your gift, of course._

 _Master George is growing and changing every day. He rode his pony for the first time before the king fell ill. He was nervous at first, but soon began to enjoy it. By the end of the lesson, he did not want to stop. He also loves playing with Drini – when she is not with the king, of course._

 _The whole family adores their puppy. Even the queen loves her, and she says often that the king loves Drini more than her. Lady Mary asked me if there were any more puppies you had to sell, but I told her no._

 _You and I have gotten on better lately, but I would never forgive you if you sold Nosi. To anyone._

 _I am well. I am glad autumn's chill is finally leaving, as is Edward. We both long for spring. Sybil seems to be happy no matter the weather, but she told me just this morning she is impatient for the flowers to bloom and the trees to bud once again._

Thomas yawned, feeling like his head would split in two. He pinched himself on the arm. The last thing he wanted was to fall asleep and ruin the scroll.

Father had written to him every few days since they had returned to the palace after mid-autumn, as had Daisy. Elsie had even written twice to him.

He was not lying about being busy. A seemingly never-ending stream of suitors and other guests had come throughout the season. The king's sister, Rosamund, had visited for a long while.

When Robert was ill, Thomas felt like he had not slept in days. What he wrote to his father was true, that the king was better. He did not tell him of the king leaving in the middle of a feast, only to collapse outside his bedchamber, vomiting blood.

Thomas knew he would remember the redness that clung to the queen's dress and his tunic, the panic that raced through his body as he dropped to the floor beside the king. Robert whispering his love for Cora. Thinking it was the end.

The lonely flame on the candle flickered, making Thomas shudder. That night was the first time he had prayed to the gods since he was a child. The plea to the Healer had come to his lips without conscious thought. But he had meant every word.

 _Please take away his pain, Great Physician! Heal him! Master George is too young to lose his grandfather to the God of the Dead…_

In the daytime, it was easy to brush such notions aside. He knew it was mostly the queen, and luck, that had healed the king.

But at night sitting alone in the dark he wondered.

He set his mind to finishing the letter.

 _With all the strange young men at court, Master Henry has been diligent in assuring the young women's safety. Edward and I watch out for Sybil whenever we can. Fortunately, she is so busy serving Lady Mary she is almost always with her, when she is not sleeping._

 _Please send my love to Daisy. Tell her when spring comes, I will have more time to write. I am glad you both are well…_

He hesitated a moment.

… _and I am glad to hear Elsie is as well. I liked her letters very much. She told me of things that you would not. Mostly of you, since you say nothing of yourself, and of friends from the village._

He was grateful that Daisy and his stepmother saw Phyllis often. The wheelwright's wife was nearing the time when her child would be born.

 _Thank you for looking after Nosi for me. But remember, she loves me_ _best_ _!_

 _Your son,_

 _Thomas_

Despite his fatigue, he smiled as he waited for the ink to dry, then sealed the letter.

* * *

The autumn seemed to drag as it neared its end. Charles and Elsie had settled into a routine of watching the flocks in wind or rain, in days with sparse sunshine. They visited friends when they could.

Whenever Daisy was home, she brought them comfort. She knew they missed their away children, too.

Edward always wrote his letters to both Charles and Elsie. His mostly carried news heard at court. About the suitors vying for Lady Mary's hand, and the lands that sent them.

 _The young king of Crowborough, Philip, brought word that fever is rife in his kingdom. It has spread into Painswick. The queen there, formerly Lady Rosamund, wrote to her brother that pilgrims traveling from Loftus are dying. She is doing all she can to help them._

 _The king was upset with his guest. He told Thomas later if the fever came to his kingdom, he would stay with his people and help them, not abandon them._

 _Philip also brought a letter to the queen. Several ships owned by Master Harold were sunk in a ferocious storm. The queen's brother is distraught over the loss of men, and the animals the ships carried. Master Harold did write to Her Ladyship that none of the sheep lost were yours, Master Shepherd. He was grateful for that._

 _Even were it not for the unfortunate news he brought, I do not believe Lady Mary would ever have accepted the king of Crowborough. She was as unimpressed as her father with his behavior. In the end they parted, as his interest was clearly elsewhere._

 _Hexham is celebrating the birth of an heir. The king and queen sent their fastest messenger to our court, and the news was received here with great joy. Even Lady Mary looked happy. Sybil said she was glad that Lady Edith (Lady Mary never refers to her sister as the Queen of Hexham, even now), had delivered her son safely. That was all, she told Sybil._

 _Both of us think Lady Mary thinks better of her sister than she lets on._

 _Several of the lords who have attended court have said the rumors about the king of Carlisle going to war are_ _not_ _true. The word is that he is visiting kingdoms one by one, proclaiming peace. Let us all pray that is the truth._

 _There is talk he may visit here. If he does, the king said it would be a great honor. He is the richest man in the world - or so the stories say._

Of the three, Sybil wrote home most often. Sometimes Charles, or Elsie, or both, received long letters. Other times the scrolls were small, hurriedly written in haste.

 _As for the men who have come to court, Mary does not care for any of them in a meaningful way. She will never love anyone like she loved Matthew. But she does hope to marry again, for love._

 _Mother, of course you_ _would_ _ask about Henry from Shackleton! You are as bad as someone else I know! You are always such a plotter. You and T. HE thinks Mary and Henry would make a fine couple._

Elsie laughed reading her daughter's letter. She quickly wrote back.

 _Ask the trickster if he intends to have the final word on love, when it comes to Mary. She has her own mind when it comes to men._

The shepherdess knew the mortal woman was not the only one who wished to trust her own heart over anyone else's wishes.

* * *

It was nearing midday, with a damp chill in the air. The sun was beginning to break through the clouds. Charles looked up from where he sat in the doorway, at the blue sky that appeared above him. Nosi slept on his lap.

After all the rain, the warmth felt good. He smiled at the papyrus in his hands.

Thomas's letter meant everything to him. Oh, he had already heard some of the news in it. Sybil had written earlier about the king's illness.

But that his son wrote to him, sending his regards to Elsie – even teasing him about Nosi! – made Charles's heart sing.

He did worry about Robert. But how ill could he have been? No doubt the queen was just trying to protect him. He did think it was too bad about the wine, and doubted the king's patience regarding how much, or how _little_ , he drank would last forever.

Chewing on a piece of honey bread, he read the letter again. Nosi woke up and whined, sniffing at his hand. He held up the bread out of her reach.

"No," he rubbed her ears. "This is not for you."

He felt his resolve weakening as she begged. She was such a pretty thing, with blue eyes (all of Freya and Ve's puppies had them) and a shiny black and white coat. Hastily, he crammed the rest of the bread into his mouth before he could change his mind and give in.

 _Elsie will laugh at me. I spoil her enough._

"Maybe you will have more luck when James returns," he told her. "You've already charmed Alfred and Andrew. I doubt he will be any different."

The young apprentice would be returning soon, in time to help with the shearing.

Nosi suddenly turned on his lap, her nose in the air. She leapt away from him and ran towards the brow of the hill. Charles heard the lowing of sheep there and heard Ve bark. A moment later, Daisy appeared. Her face was red from running, and her legs and tunic were caked with mud. She skidded next to the well, but caught herself before falling, her arms swinging wildly.

"What are you doing home today?" Charles asked her, standing up. "I just ate, but there is more bread inside-"

His daughter shook her head, panting for breath. "Thank you, Papa, but no," she squeezed his arm. "Where-where is Mother?"

"East of the meadow," he said, wondering what was going on. "Watching the flock."

"Someone else will need to watch them." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I've been sent to get her."

She slogged her way up the hill as quickly as she could move. Fortunately, Elsie saw her coming before she had to cross the entire meadow.

"It is time, then," she handed Daisy a water skin after meeting her in the middle. The girl nodded, and drank some water. Charles splashed behind her. There were so many puddles that it was impossible not to get his feet wet.

"Phyllis is having her baby," Elsie explained to Charles. His eyes went wide.

"Oh…oh, I see," he rubbed his hands together nervously. Nosi trotted past him to Freya. The two dogs touched noses. "Is everything all right? Is Richard there?"

"He isn't, but Mistress Isobel is," Daisy tugged on Elsie's sleeve. "She was the one who asked for you. I don't know if everything is all right," she told her father. "I've never seen a _woman_ give birth. Only sheep." She pressed her lips together, a line between her eyes. "I didn't know it hurt that much."

"It only hurts for a little while," Elsie handed her crook to Charles. "You will have to watch the flock, my man. Nosi will stay here with you and Freya. Remme was here, but she ran off not long ago towards the stream-"

"She met me on the road," Daisy said. "Somehow she always knows when I'm coming home."

"That she does." Charles took Elsie's crook and kissed his wife. "Stay as long as you need to," he murmured, his hand on the side of her face. "I'll be fine here."

"Pray for her. And Joseph and Master Bill, that they don't worry too much," she hugged him, smiling.

She and Daisy raced across the meadow and down the hill. They waved at Alfred, but did not stop to talk to him. It was difficult to run to Downton. The road had turned to mud, and the two women tried to avoid the worst spots, but it was impossible to miss all of them. Remme picked her way through the mire in front of them. Daisy had to help Elsie from getting her feet stuck more than once.

"Her pains began during the night," the girl explained as they tried to hurry along, closer to the village. The river roared so loudly she had to raise her voice. "I didn't know they had started until dawn, when I woke up. Master Joseph sent me to the temple in mid-morning when they got worse. Ivy came to the house with Mistress Isobel."

Part of her was glad she had been sent to fetch the priestess, who also served as a midwife, then later her mother.

It was unnerving hearing a calm woman like Phyllis scream.

When they arrived at the wheelwright's house, they found Isobel, Anna, and Ivy there with the laboring mother.

"Mistress Isobel sent the men to wait at the forge," Ivy said as she helped Elsie and Daisy out of their cloaks. "Master John sent one of his lads to fetch Anna. She hasn't been here long." Behind the hanging blanket, Phyllis let out a loud moan. Daisy flinched.

"She sounds worse."

"I expect she's tired," Ivy said nervously. "Awake half the night, and no rest today!" She offered bread and cheese to the other two. After washing the mud off themselves, they sat down to eat. Elsie ate her food almost without swallowing, impatient to see Phyllis.

The dark-haired woman _was_ tired. Damp strands stuck to her red face as she walked slowly back and forth, with Anna on one side of her and Isobel on the other.

"Thank you for coming," she said, gripping Elsie's hands. She closed her eyes, breathing out. "I know you said you wanted to be here and...I wanted you here, as well."

"I am honored that you asked for me," Elsie smiled. "And this is the day for you to have whatever you ask for. I would never say no."

Phyllis returned her smile, then groaned.

"Is it too much to ask that I want to do this _without_ pain?"

"That might be going too far," Anna slipped an arm around her friend's back. She, Phyllis, and Isobel laughed. Elsie forced herself to join them, picking up a water skin to check that it was full.

 _I tell her I would never say no, then she says that!_

 _You cannot take away her pain. You_ _ **should**_ _not. No woman has ever given birth without it._

The afternoon crept by slowly. The women sang, told stories, and tried to keep Phyllis's spirits up. Both Isobel and Elsie were encouraged by the mother-to-be's quiet strength.

Ivy and Daisy kept in the background, fetching water and anything else needed. They cooked for the others as well. Daisy left twice, to run messages to Joseph and Master Bill.

"I know they are worried," Phyllis sat on a sheepskin, leaning against Isobel. "Joseph didn't want to leave my side. He said he would stay, no matter what." She smiled, a gleam in her dark eyes. "My brave man. I told him I loved him for saying so, but he would likely lose his courage later." The smile left her face. "In truth, Priestess, I didn't want him to hear me in pain. He would only blame himself."

"You are a wonder," The older woman put her arm around Phyllis's shoulders. "Not many women would speak so well of their husbands. Not at a time like this!"

"Not many women have husbands as good as mine," Phyllis said stoutly. She held out her hand to Anna to help her up. "I am very blessed."

Ivy left near sunset. Phyllis's pains were increasing, and the young girl had had her fill.

"I would stay, truly I would," she whispered to Daisy as she pulled on her cloak. She leaned over to pet Remme. Phyllis let out another hoarse cry. Ivy jumped, making the dog yelp. "But I've changed my mind. I don't _ever_ want to have a baby, not if it's like that to have one!"

Remme went with her on her way home, and then came back to sit with Daisy.

* * *

As time wore on, a heavy weight settled onto Elsie's shoulders.

She knew why. She could see what was happening in front of her.

 _Isobel will know soon._

 _What will she do?_

 _What_ _can_ _she do?_

 _The real question is, what will YOU do?_

 _There is still time._

It was dark, and a fire crackled from the hearth providing light and warmth, when someone knocked on the door. Daisy was half-asleep sitting next to Remme, but she got up and answered it. It was Richard. Daisy let him in at once, wondering how he knew it wasn't over yet.

"Ivy asked me to come," he said cheerfully. "I told her Isobel is an excellent midwife and that childbirth takes time, but she insisted I come see Phyllis myself. I wanted to reassure her, so here I am." He raised his eyebrows at the sounds coming from behind the blanket. Daisy told the women the healer was there, and he went to join them.

"I'm worried," Anna whispered to him, a line between her eyes. Phyllis lay on the floor with Isobel and Elsie beside her. "She's getting weaker. All day this has been going on…"

One look at Phyllis told Richard Anna was telling the truth. His blue eyes met Isobel's, and the two had a conversation without words.

"Anna, would you sit with her a moment?" The priestess got up from the floor. Her knees cracked.

She and Richard whispered by the hearth, mindful of Daisy sitting nearby.

"The baby is sideways," Isobel felt a sob rising in her throat. She leaned her head against Richard's shoulder, needing his strength. "I felt an arm instead of the head. I don't know what to do. She can't continue like this."

"I can crush a powder for her to take," he put his arms around her. His heart sank. If it was true about the baby, and he was certain Isobel was right, there was not much else _he_ could do.

The worst part about being a healer was moments like these. Feeling utterly helpless.

He wondered if he should tell Elsie to send Daisy to his house, but decided not to.

Yet.

The last thing he wanted was for the young girl to see the worst.

"Phyllis?" He said gently to the exhausted woman once he'd crushed some herbs into water. "I want you to drink this. Hopefully it will help speed your labor along."

He kept his voice light, not wanting to let her know how frightened he was. Anna held Phyllis's head up while Elsie lifted the cup to her lips.

"We should get her to stand," Richard helped Phyllis up once she had drank all of the water. He bore the brunt of the woman's weight, trying to reassure her. Isobel swept some of Phyllis's hair out of her face.

Anna sat with her head bowed almost to her knees. Elsie's face was pinched as she stood with her back to the wall. Her eyes were far away.

Something stirred in Isobel's heart.

 _All you can do is ask._

 _You have to try._

She waited until Anna had finished her prayers, and had lit another oil lamp. "Richard?" She gently extricated herself from under Phyllis's arm. "I need some fresh air." Silently, she beckoned Elsie outside.

Several clouds moved slowly across the sky. The goddess took a deep breath, turning to face Isobel.

The woman wasted no words. "The baby cannot be turned. Not with any means that Richard, or I, possess."

"No," Elsie agreed. A chill crept across her heart.

 _It is as I feared._

"Will she die?" The priestess asked her bluntly. "And the child?"

"It is not my will," she swallowed, trying to explain. "But if Hades wants them…"

"But _you_ have the power to save them!"

Isobel's voice echoed. Her eyes were wide. Insistent. Elsie wanted to look away from her steady gaze, but could not bring herself to do so.

"You do not know what you are asking of me," she protested, folding her hands together.

 _To defy my uncle is no small thing._

 _Now, now._

 _It is not too late, as you well know._

 _You still can choose to help them._

"I do know," Isobel bit back a sob. There was visible anguish in the woman's face. "I know precisely what I'm asking. My son died on the day his child was born." She suddenly reached out and grabbed Elsie's wrist. "Please save her. And her child. _Please_ ," she gripped the goddess's wrist harder. A cloud floated away from the moon, flooding the village with light. "For Joseph's sake, if not for Phyllis. He has had little happiness in his life. You know that." Her brown eyes bored into Elsie's. "If I could, I would kneel down right now with my face on the ground," she whispered. Puddles of standing water were visible around them.

" _Please_ ," the priestess pleaded.

Elsie closed her eyes. How could she say no? Not only to Isobel, but to the prayers from Phyllis, Joseph, Master Bill, Anna and others?

And Charles.

 _I cannot deny them._

 _Not now._

 _You want mother and child to live, too._

A scream echoed from within the house. Without a word, Elsie turned and ran back inside, Isobel on her heels.

Richard looked up, desperate. "Her pains are strengthening. But nothing has changed. The baby hasn't turned-" Phyllis's knees gave out, and he only just caught her, along with Anna. Behind Isobel and Elsie, Daisy peeked from behind the blanket. No one noticed her.

"Let me," Elsie took Anna's place. She wrapped her right arm around Phyllis's torso, helping Richard hold her up.

"By the gods," whispered Phyllis, her voice a mere breath, "Divine Lady, help me…"

"It will be all right," Elsie whispered into her ear, knowing she did not comprehend anything she said. She placed her left hand on the bulge that was Phyllis's child. The woman gasped, then let out a scream.

"The baby's crowning," Isobel yelled. She crouched below Phyllis, her hands open. "You need to push – now!"

"That's right, breathe, breathe, breathe," Richard chanted. He could hardly fathom what had just happened, but he was not about to question it in the moment. "Wonderful, Phyllis!"

Anna grabbed the birthing stool and set in in place, then stood behind Isobel. Phyllis set her feet apart. She sank onto the stool and pushed with all her might. The entire time Elsie's hand was on her belly.

The baby's head emerged, followed by the rest of her body. Isobel caught her.

"A girl!" Richard cried. He looked up at Anna in delight. The blonde woman gasped in relief.

"Praise Eala," she breathed, smiling. Phyllis laughed and cried at the same time, her chest heaving.

Daisy's mouth hung open. Her eyes darted from the dark-haired baby to Phyllis to Elsie. The infant let out a healthy squawk, and everyone cheered, but Daisy hardly heard her.

 _ **She**_ _did it._

 _Mother._

 _I know it._

 _Somehow._

 _The baby hadn't turned, then she DID turn._

 _How did she do it!?_

She had watched many ewes in her life give birth to lambs. She had seen more than one animal in distress before. She was no midwife like Isobel, nor a healer like Richard, but she did not think it was possible for a baby to just 'turn' like that.

 _All Mother did was put her hand on Phyllis._

"Daisy?"

Elsie was smiling at her. "It is quite something, isn't it? You can come closer," she gestured at her daughter. The girl looked like she was in a daze. "Would you like to meet her?"

"Y-yes." She managed to stutter. Phyllis beamed up at her, cradling her daughter in her arms.

"She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she said. "Isn't she beautiful?"

 _No_ , was the first thought Daisy had. The baby was a good color, but she was wrinkled and covered in-well, blood. And she screamed so loudly Daisy was astonished Joseph and Phyllis were her parents. Where did she get her voice?

She gave Phyllis a small smile. "She's so small. And I think she has your nose."

"She does indeed," Isobel laughed as she tied off the cord. She looked up at Elsie, unshed tears in her eyes.

 _Thank you_.

Elsie nodded in return. She then kissed Daisy on the cheek, startling her daughter.

"You'd better run and get Joseph and Bill," she squeezed her shoulder. "Hopefully John didn't take them home with him."

"He said he would stay with them at the forge until it was all over," Anna carried a large basin filled with water and set it next to Phyllis. She wiped her friend's face with a clean cloth. The two laughed together, admiring the newborn.

Daisy hurried to the forge, glad of the fresh air and the light of the moon. She hardly knew what to think. She was very glad Phyllis and her baby were well, but there was no way to explain what had happened.

And who would believe her if she said anything?

Joseph was sitting on a low wall next to his father, staring blankly into the flames as John raked through the ashes. He leaped up when he saw Daisy. His eyes were so wide they looked like they would pop out of his head.

"Is she-"

"It's over," she said. "The baby's born, and Phyllis is fine. They're both fine-"

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the wheelwright tore past her, running through the mud back to his house.

Daisy held out her arm to help Master Bill along. The old man sagged in relief, his eyes bright. John smiled and offered his congratulations. He told Daisy that he would wait for Anna before going home.

As they hurried from the forge, Daisy heard the blacksmith murmur, "Thank the gods."

 _He must have been worried. He never says anything like that!_

 _It's been a night of surprises._

"Thank you for helping me, Daisy," Master Bill told her, his hand clasped in hers. He moved faster than she could remember. "I would think less of my son for leaving me behind, but I'll forgive him." His eyes twinkled. "Just this once."

* * *

The murmur of voices on the other side of the blanket mingled with the crackling fire. But Joseph did not hear them.

He didn't notice anything but the infant in his arms.

"She's beautiful," he whispered in awe to Phyllis. "I'm glad she looks like you…nothing from me could ever be this beautiful!"

The baby stirred in his arms and he held her a little tighter, afraid to lose his grip.

Bill laughed. "Don't listen to him, daughter. Her ears are just like my boy's, and so are her hands. And believe it or not, when he was born, he had even more hair than she does!"

"I can believe it," Phyllis leaned against Joseph, a smile lingering on her lips. "And I'm sure as she grows she'll be like both of us."

Isobel poked her head through the blanket. "I'm going back to the temple. If you need me during the night, please come right away. Otherwise, I will see you all in the morning. Good night."

They bid her goodnight. Joseph immediately gave his attention back to his daughter.

"I'm not used to feeling lucky," he said softly. It seemed incredible to him that life could be this good. A beautiful, kind wife who he adored, and their child that they had made together.

Phyllis kissed him on the cheek. She knew how he felt. "Well, you should be."

He smoothed a finger down the infant's soft cheek. "I suppose I should let you hold her, Dad."

"You suppose! Unlike you, I've held new babies before," his father joked. Joseph transferred his little girl awkwardly to his father.

"Hello there," the new grandfather murmured. He brushed her head with a kiss. "It's wonderful to meet you." He held her little hand in his. "And what might your name be?"

Phyllis and Joseph looked at each other. "We aren't sure yet. We have been thinking of names, but we want to make sure she has the right one," Phyllis explained.

"What is this about a name?" Richard asked. He, Elsie and Daisy peered through at the family. "Have you decided on one?"

"Not yet," Joseph said, his arm around Phyllis. "But when we do, we'll be certain to tell you. Are you off?"

The healer nodded. "Anna just left. I'm going to walk Elsie and Daisy home. I have to say," he rubbed his chin, "I was sure that the baby was in a sideways position. So was Isobel. But both of us couldn't be happier that we were wrong."

"So are we," Phyllis teased him. Her difficult and painful labor was fading fast in her memory. She had been frightened that something was terribly wrong. But her daughter was cuddled safe in her father-in-law's arms, and she herself felt fine. Elated. She was tired and sore, but it was nothing that worried her.

Thank the gods.

Daisy yawned behind her hand. "I thought I'd go home tonight and come back in the morning."

"Go," Bill said. "You'll get more sleep at home. And your father will be happy to see you, too."

"Thank you so much for all your help, Daisy," Phyllis smiled at her. "I hope I didn't frighten you too badly."

"You didn't," the girl said, shifting from one foot to the other, her eyes heavy. "And I didn't do much – just what was asked. I didn't mind."

"You helped very much!" Elsie cried. "Now, let's get you home before you fall asleep on your feet." She smiled kindly at Phyllis. "Congratulations to you. You did very well, and she's a precious bairn," her eyes softened as she watched Bill coo over his granddaughter.

 _I regret nothing._

Saying goodnight, she, Richard, and Daisy left the house with Remme.

"You're a lovely girl. You're going to be kind and gentle like your mum and dad," Bill told the baby. Her eyes were closed, but she wriggled in his arms. "And you'll be beautiful. Prettier than the irises, lovelier than the lilies in summer-"

Phyllis sat up straight, her eyebrows raised. " _That's_ her name. It's perfect, Dad!"

"What is?" The men asked at the same time. Phyllis beamed.

"Lily."

* * *

Carrying a lamp, Richard walked Elsie and Daisy back to the hill beside their house. He did not stay long. The moon had long since risen, and he had to get back to Downton, or Ivy would worry, he said.

Elsie was a little surprised when instead of going towards the house, Daisy headed off to the right.

"Where are you going?" She called. "I thought you were exhausted!"

"I am," her daughter called back. "But I promised Andy I'd tell him after it was over. I'll be right in."

The shepherdess smiled and shook her head, watching her girl pick her way through the mud towards the fire that burned between the two hills. A figure stood up as Daisy approached him.

Elsie walked straight up the hill, trying not to slip on the wet ground.

 _I am not surprised._

Andy clutched his crook. "What happened? Is Mistress Phyllis all right? What about the baby?" he asked, his voice tight.

Daisy moved next to the fire, holding out her hands to warm them. "She is all right, and the baby is too," she sighed, feeling the heat on her hands and feet. "It's a girl."

Andy blew out a breath. "Thank the gods," he said. He looked more relieved than Daisy would have thought.

"I didn't know you were so worried about her."

"My mum has served as a midwife before," he told her, his eyes serious. "She's seen more than one mother or her child die." He flopped down on the ground. Ve jumped over his long legs and ambled over to Daisy. "Your father told me Mistress Isobel was there. She really thinks they'll both be all right?"

"She does. And Master Richard thinks so, too." She raised her eyebrows, smiling slightly. "Are you always like this when a baby's born? Just wait until it's Anna's turn."

She knew he had a soft spot for animals, but she had no idea he fretted over their friends like that.

"I know…go on," he mumbled, looking down. "Laugh at me. Alfred said I was being an old woman, worrying about her."

She came over beside him and brushed her fingers through his hair.

"I would never laugh at you." After what she had witnessed, she was surprised anyone got through childbirth alive. Something _had_ happened…she was sure of it. But it was nothing that she could explain.

And she would probably never know the truth of it, either.

There was no way she could ask Elsie.

"Phyllis would think it's sweet. So do I," she said. "You shouldn't be ashamed of how you feel." She stretched, suddenly feeling like the only thing she wanted to do was go to sleep. "I'm going to bed. Good night."

"G'night."

She was halfway up the hill, the house just beyond, when she heard him call after her.

"Wait!"

"What _is_ it, Andy?" She turned, a little irritated. She really was tired.

He took her hand and pulled her to him. She lost her balance and bumped into him, stepping on his toes.

Before he could lose his nerve, he bent over and kissed her. A long, soft, lingering kiss. She was glad she was already leaning against him because if she had not been, she thought she might fall over.

Her knees went weak.

They finally broke apart. They stood silently, his hand on her shoulder and hers on his chest.

"I'm not ashamed of how I feel," he whispered. In the darkness it was hard to see his face. "In all the world, there's one person I care about more than anyone else."

Daisy felt warmth from the crown of her head down to her toes.

"Me too," she said, her voice shaking a little despite her best efforts.

Andy took her hand and kissed it.

"Good night, Daisy." She could just make out his smile. He walked back to the fire and the quiet flock.

She floated into the house, said goodnight to Papa and Mother who were talking quietly by the hearth, and sat down behind the curtain on her sheepskin. Pulling her blanket over herself, she smiled, a huge grin.

 _Divine Lady, I don't know how you did it…but thank you!_

* * *

 **A/N: So this is how this story has gone: eleventy chapters during Midsummer, and now I've gone through autumn (which is about six months in time) in three. But the story is finally picking up. I hope you don't mind.**

 **For what it's worth – I have never given birth myself, or watched it. So the description of it is not scientific and likely not very realistic. I hope I haven't missed the mark completely.**

 **As ever, thank you for the love for this fic! This chapter is being posted just on its one-year anniversary. If you'd have asked me a year ago where I thought Winter would be in a year, I would have said, "Finished." Hahahahahaha...my 2016 self was so naive.**

 **Please review if you have time.**


	52. Fever

**A/N: I'm not going to lie to you all – this chapter starts light and gets dark. Darker than I originally intended, but parts of it wrote themselves.**

 **The next part of this story is not going to be easy at all. I am rating this chapter M for subject matter relating to death (I tried to whitewash it as much as possible). TW for character death.**

 **As much as this story is based on mythology, there are obviously elements of reality in it. Phyllis giving birth in the last chapter is one example. Death is not something I or anyone else likes to dwell on, but it is part of this story. I've known that from the beginning.**

 **A huge, huge thank you to those of you who have kept reading this. This is obviously not a fluffy fic (though there is fluff, and actually more to come – because really, it can't be dark all the time) and I appreciate any feedback you all are willing to give. I love you all.**

* * *

Autumn slipped away, and spring came again. It grew warmer. The grass in the meadow grew thick, though Charles worried about the heavy rain drowning the grass, making it difficult for the flocks to graze there.

The stream remained high, and flooded twice.

"I am glad of one thing," Charles boomed to Elsie one soggy morning as they stood outside. Water dripped from his hood, and he blinked furiously to clear his eyes. The stream thundered down the hill beside them. "At least this spring you haven't frightened me half to death saving a lamb."

"Do I frighten you?" She teased him, resting her hand on his arm. He smiled.

"Not anymore."

Jimmy came up the hill, his blond hair plastered against the side of his face. "Master, we've herded the rest towards the pen. Alfred's putting them in there now. Is there anything _else_ we need to do?" He kept his gaze on Charles, not looking at Elsie. It was obvious he wanted to get out of the rain as soon as possible.

The shepherd surveyed the apprentice for several moments while his wife struggled not to roll her eyes.

 _Let the poor lad go inside and dry off!_

"No," he said finally. "You can go home. If the gods favor us, it will stop raining when we start shearing them tomorrow."

Jimmy nodded, and ran past them up the hill. They could hear him yelling to Alfred.

"You're too hard on him. On all of them, but especially James." Elsie said once they were inside. She sighed as she used a cloth to dry her hair.

Charles yanked a fresh tunic over his head. "I wasn't sure he was going to come back," he said stiffly. His belt was forgotten in his hand. "Last summer, he kept on about how boring it was here…"

"He said he would come back in the spring, and so he has. What more do you want of him?"

He blustered a bit, eating a leftover piece of cheese. "That he work the same as Alfred and Andrew, without complaining about it! _They_ don't talk back to me!"

She snorted. "Because Alfred hopes one day to buy part of the flock from you. And Andy is sweet on Daisy – he's hardly going to say anything to anger you," she reminded him. "You have a hard time with James because he reminds you of _you_. He has his own opinions. There's nothing wrong with him expressing them." She tossed the cloth onto a pile needing to be washed and stood up. "They all are like you, in different ways. You do influence them. More than you know."

"You have an effect on them," he said, still nettled. "They all like you. Very much."

She knew what he was trying to say.

"Charles," she took his hand. He dropped the belt on the floor. "You know neither Alfred nor Andy like me in _that_ way. They're used to me now, and they know I am very much taken." She smiled. "James did not see me for a long time. It is usual for me to have an effect on most mortal men if they've never seen me, or have not seen me in a long time. All he did was stare for a long time his first day back, until Alfred hit him!"

"Last year, he wanted to seduce you," he persisted. "I cannot forget that so easily."

"Forget, or forgive?" she asked, taking his other hand and getting him to face her. "He has no effect on me. There is only one man – only one _being_ in the entire creation who I married, who I desire. Who I love," she said, her eyes searching his. "You know it's true."

"I know," he whispered, feeling ashamed. "You must think me a fool. I am not jealous of him, truly, but seeing the way he reacted to you…in a way, it reminded me again of how everyone else sees you."

 _The most glorious woman ever seen._

Elsie stepped closer to him. "I don't care how everyone else sees me," she said. "I am _your_ wife. No one else's." She reached up, gently moving aside a wet curl of hair on his forehead.

Charles closed his eyes at her gentle touch. Why his apprentice's reaction affected him so, he could only guess. Maybe it was the young man's confidence. Maybe it was seeing more silver hairs in his own reflection, mixed in with the black curls on his head.

Reminding him that he was not getting any younger.

"You are not a fool," she said, sighing. "If anything, _I_ am the fool."

He raised his eyebrows. She smiled, raising herself up her tiptoes to kiss him soundly on the cheek. "When I'm with you, I forget everything else."

"Mmm," he murmured. He knew she meant it, and it lightened his heart. He pressed his lips to her forehead as they wrapped their arms around each other. "You know, we don't have to go anywhere today. That does not happen often."

The sound of the rain falling steadily was peaceful.

"No," she rubbed his back. "Though I do wish it would stop raining. The sheep are miserable enough."

"I don't mind if it rains today. Only tomorrow." He kissed her nose.

 _Yes, if it rains all day, we can stay in house. Just us, alone…_

"If it continues, I will have to start a fire," she reminded him. "Otherwise, we will never get rid of the damp in here."

"Are you cold now?" He asked, his eagerness receding a little. Outside, a low rumble of thunder echoed.

"Not yet." A certain gleam sparkled in her eyes as her fingers danced across his torso. "If you don't _want_ me to get cold, there is a way you can keep me from being so-"

The words were scarcely out of her mouth before he kissed her. Once, twice, and again, hard, until both had lost count.

And most of their breath.

"I am glad," she gasped, her chest heaving, "that you never put on your belt. Once less thing for me to take off."

She slid her hands down his back and over his bottom, bringing his body closer to hers. He moaned, his lips below her ear.

"Woman," he rumbled against her soft skin, "what you _do_ to me-"

They made love as rain poured down outside, their cries of pleasure drowned out by the roaring stream.

* * *

Though Charles, Elsie, and the apprentices had to endure several more wet days during the shearing, they were relieved when the skies finally cleared and sunlight began to dry the soaked ground.

Along with the sun came warmer weather.

It was near midday one beautiful day when their guests arrived. Joseph, Phyllis, baby Lily, Master Bill, John and Anna, and John's apprentices Toby and Daniel, came for a visit. Most of the talk among the lively group was about the weather, and the recent lambing season. Charles was pleased with it. Two of the ewes had given birth to twins, and only one lamb out of the entire flock had been lost.

They all sat outside, enjoying the warm spring air.

Both Alfred and Jimmy congratulated the new parents, though both lads declined to hold the baby. Andy held Lily. He did not seem to care what anyone thought.

They laughed at how the brown-eyed infant kept watching him.

"Best hold her while you can," Phyllis leaned over to him, speaking in a loud whisper. "Between Daisy and the men, I hardly ever get a chance! It's a good thing I'm the only one that can feed her!" Joseph, Bill, Charles, and John were deep in conversation and none of them heard her.

She shared a letter that Thomas had sent. The young man was very happy she and Lily were doing well.

 _...send Master Joseph my best regards, too. I'm sure you both will be a wonderful mum and dad. Lily is very lucky to have you._

 _Once her uncle Thomas meets her the fun can begin!_

Elsie laughed. "That sounds more like him."

Phyllis smiled, setting aside the scroll. "He doesn't like people to know it, but he's very sweet, your son. From what Anna told me about the way he is with Master George, I know he'll be just as good to our Lily."

"' _Sweet!?_ '" muttered Toby to Daniel and Jimmy at the other end of the low table. "Thomas? Is she mad? I've only seen him scowling!"

"He's not that bad," Alfred said, his mouth full of roasted lamb. "Just rather prickly."

"Maybe if he liked girls he would be nicer," Jimmy mumbled. Daisy heard him and scowled at him so fiercely he blushed and lowered his eyes. "Sorry. I didn't mean it."

"I don't think who he likes has anything to do with his temper," Andy shushed Lily, who was beginning to stir in his arms. "He's always been nice to me." Unable to quiet the baby, he stood up and handed her to her father before going off to watch the flock.

Other than John, no one but Elsie noticed how little Anna ate. Despite the sunshine the young woman was rather pale. She yawned more than once, but dismissed it, saying she had not slept well the night before.

Elsie averted her eyes, taking a drink of her wine.

 _Your sickness will soon pass._

She could hardly wait until Anna knew for certain. Perhaps she suspected, but Elsie knew she would not want to say anything, for fear of being wrong.

 _How happy you will be! And John as well!_

She remembered that golden afternoon for a long time. The laughter and joy. Though there was not a cloud in the sky, a shadow grew over them.

It was an unseen enemy. It was not a divine being hidden from view, though the gods in their true form knew of its existence.

The first news Charles and Elsie heard of it came in a short message for Jimmy, four days later.

His mother had died suddenly of a virulent fever.

When he went through Downton, intending to travel home, he was stopped by Richard. The healer warned the young man not to travel north. The fever was raging there, he said. The king had written to Violet and Isobel telling them of the sickness.

Richard feared it would come to the village.

Jimmy returned to the house, shaken.

"There's nothing I can do at home," he told Charles and Elsie. "Mum's already gone and-and buried, and if what Master Richard says is true, most everyone living between Ainderby and the king's palace is either sick or dying. Or already…" he swallowed, not finishing.

He did not need to.

"Surely not," Elsie said, feeling hair on the back of her neck stand up. "It cannot be _that_ bad."

But something in Jimmy's eyes told her he was telling the truth.

The young man looked from her to the shepherd. Charles was frowning, his eyebrows knitted together.

"Where did Richard hear this?"

"From the priestess Isobel, who got a message from the king," Jimmy said. "The king wrote that no one at the palace has fallen ill-" he paused as both husband and wife breathed sighs of relief, "-but he feels they're 'an island in the middle of a raging sea', is how he put it. Master Richard met me outside the temple, and we went in. The priestess showed me the letter."

"Well." Charles forced himself to unclench his fists. He felt Elsie slip her hand into his, and he squeezed it. "You had best stay here until it's safe to travel again. I do hope you can go home later, to honor your mother the way she should be remembered."

But by sunset the following day they received more bad news. Master Bill sent Daisy home, and she brought word that several people in Downton had the fever.

"Phyllis is gone to John and Anna's with Lily," she said to Elsie that evening, pulling a bucket of water out of the well. "Master Joseph sent her. He thinks the air is better outside of the village."

Fires were lit by some people to keep out unhealthy air. Others insisted that fire would do nothing to halt the spread of the fever, and had begun to dig a long trench in the road north of Downton. The hope was that those with the sickness had been unlucky enough to come from places already raging with fever, and if the villagers blocked the way, no one else would get it.

Daisy did not think any of them were right. Though she was glad Phyllis and Lily were staying outside the village.

"But they can't keep people from coming into Downton," she argued to her father. "What happens if the king lets Thomas, Sybil and Edward come home? Will the villagers keep them out, just because they came from the north? It's not fair!"

Charles agreed with her, but he knew fear could be just as dangerous as the fever. He would keep his family and the lads as safe as he could.

"Do you know how to stop it?" He asked Elsie late that night. His wife had been very quiet ever since Jimmy had returned after his failed journey.

"I do know," she laid her head against his chest, glad of his strength. "But I have no power to do so, not against this. Not as a mortal or as a goddess. It is for the Healer, Adam, to heal those who are ill."

She had told Charles what she had done for Phyllis. That was different, she explained. She had power over fertility, and the rite of childbirth.

But the fever was another thing entirely.

"Even were I to tell people the knowledge I know," she said, feeling a lump in her throat, "Many would not believe me."

"If there is anything we can do to protect ourselves and our friends, tell me," he kissed her hair. "You know I believe you."

The important thing, she told him, was to keep as clean as possible. Especially their hands. That was not a promise that if by doing so no one would become ill, but it would help.

Charles saw firsthand the next day what Elsie had meant. May trudged through the fields to the meadow. Her sister-in-law's family in Thirsk was all down with the fever. Petunia had gone there to help.

"What are they doing to ward against the fever?" Elsie asked warily, holding a ewe lamb on her lap. The young animal nibbled on a slice of apple from her hand. "We heard some in Downton are lighting fires."

 _Not that it helps at all._

May shook her head. "A few there tried that, only to wake with fevers the next day. The butcher sacrificed his best milk cow to the Healer God. Petunia said everyone who watched him do it made sure to have him sprinkle blood on them-"

Elsie swallowed in revulsion. She felt a weary sense of inevitability.

 _Mortals will try almost anything when they are afraid._

"Have they tried giving baths to the sick?" Charles clutched his crook. May stared at him.

"In blood? No, not that I heard, but-"

"Not blood," he said, seeing Elsie's shoulders tense out of the corner of his eye, "Water. And soap."

The older woman's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hair. "I know the weather is warmer, but it's still _much_ too cold for people to have baths this early in spring! Have you lost your mind? Those with the fever would die right off if they bathed in water!"

He opened his mouth to protest, but Elsie touched his foot. She gave a tiny shake of her head.

 _It is as I said. They will not listen._

Alfred ran to Downton two days later to see Ivy. Everyone gathered by the well to hear the news when he got back. From how slowly he walked from the road and the stoop of his shoulders, they knew it was not good news.

Daisy was relieved to hear Ivy was well. Her friend was living on her own at home because Richard was hardly there.

"Why did he not send her to the temple?" Charles asked. It seemed unlike Richard to leave his niece alone, even though Ivy was old enough to care for herself and there was little fear of her being alone anymore. The fear from the attacks on the young women the previous summer had mostly gone.

Alfred ran a hand through his bright hair.

"Half of the temple girls have the fever," he said finally. "And some people have been thrown out of their homes at the first sign of it, so they started going to the temple. If they're able to get there. People are terrified," he answered the others' outraged looks. "Children and old people have been abandoned on the temple steps. I went as far as the door, but the priestess told me not to come any farther. The door was open. The whole floor was covered with bodies. Many of them were covered…"

Charles and Elsie exchanged a horrified glance. Jimmy, Andy and Daisy said nothing.

There was nothing to say.

Some who had the fever were still being cared for by loved ones and friends. The farmer Tim and his wife Margie had taken in their dead neighbors' four children. Three of those children, as well as two of the couple's own, had the fever.

Martha was also ill. She was being cared for by her servants. A message had been sent immediately to the queen, but no reply had come yet.

Both of John's apprentices had fallen ill just that morning.

"Oh _no_ ," Elsie cried, putting a hand over her mouth. "The poor lads! What about John and Anna?"

"Anna's fine," Alfred reassured her. "John sent word for her to stay at home. He's well, but he wanted her to stay away from the village for now. He said he'll sleep at the forge, and try to care for the lads as best he can. He said he hates being away from Anna, of course, but he would rather she stay well than risk coming to Downton."

The tall apprentice knew he would never forget the look on the blacksmith's face. He had never known Master John to look afraid before.

He swallowed, thinking of Ivy's wide, frightened eyes; of the white strips of cloth tied to wooden staves in front of places where the fever raged, including Eala's temple.

It felt like Downton was being drowned in white.

And fear.

The haggard look on the priestess Violet's face as she warned him to stay out of the temple haunted him. But it was the smell that had drifted through the open door that he remembered. Of filth, of sweat, of a sickly odor that he couldn't place but he somehow knew was death.

"Alfred? Alfred!"

He roused himself when Daisy grabbed his arm. "Did you see Master Bill or Master Joseph?"

Sighing, he closed his eyes. "Yes, both of them. Master Bill has the fever," he said, and she groaned. "Master Joseph didn't want to let me in to see him, but I walked past him because I knew you'd want to know how he was."

Daisy hugged herself, her heart sinking. "How-how did he look?"

"Pale. Weak," he said as honestly as he could. "But he smiled and told me that you shouldn't worry about him. That he was well looked after."

"I am sure Joseph is doing the best he can." Charles put his arm around his daughter and kissed the top of her head. "Try not to worry, love."

She gave him a squeeze back, a small smile on her face warring with her furrowed brow. "I'm going to go tell May the news. She would want to know what's going on in Downton."

"Give her our regards," Charles said. He sent the lads back to their work.

Elsie stood with her hands on her waist. As the younger ones walked away, she watched her husband's shoulders slump. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him.

"By the gods," he muttered. He turned his head to look at her, and put his hand over hers that rested on his chest. "Sorry, I don't mean to be disrespectful."

"I know."

He was quiet for a while. A breeze rustled through the grass.

"It would be wrong of me to ask you to save our family and friends, as much as I want to. I know you cannot defy your uncle again. The risk is too great. For us." He sighed, and Elsie closed her eyes, feeling his heart beat beneath their hands. A soft sob reached her ears. She looked up, and saw him crying.

"Oh Charles," she whispered, catching his tears on her fingers. "There is no shame in wanting those we love to be protected from harm. Or to be afraid of what could happen. I only wish I could defy the God of the Underworld _every_ time someone is in danger of dying."

He gulped, trying to gain control over his emotions. "I know. It's not just that…I have seen the fever rage before. I know what it can do. I worry about you."

"Me?" Her eyebrows went up. "Why? You know even if I had the fever at its worst, it would not finish me."

"I know." He curved his hand around her face, his thumb on her cheek. "But Elsie, before this is over I fear some of those we love will die. Do you know how that feels? What it is like?"

He assumed she had seen people die. Surely she knew something of the suffering of mortals.

 _But when it happens to those close to you, it is different._

He remembered all too well the pain when his grandfather and brother-in-law died of the fever. And the horror of his sister's death. She had been so vibrant and full of life, excited to see her unborn child. His mother, dying of grief after learning of his father's death. Alice's long struggle, and how hard she fought to stay alive for him and for their children.

He shoved away the thought of Elsie separated from their family and friends after they all had gone to Elysium. Now was not the time to dwell on that.

"I do know something of death, yes," she murmured. "Not in the same way as you do." She took a shaky breath. The thought of anyone she knew dying filled her with simultaneous horror and dread. "But I trust that if it comes – _when_ it comes," she corrected herself, knowing it was true, "that you will help me bear it. As I will comfort you." They held each other for a while until both were calmer.

"I told Daisy to not worry," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. "But I cannot seem to take my own advice!"

"You hide your fears well around her," she kissed him on the lips. "And I think I've heard it said that an idle mind runs wild, while a busy one is concerned with the tasks at hand. Go," she gently patted him on the back. "Watch the flock. Train Nosi. You _did_ say you were going to teach her to look after the sheep. Alfred's already started with Vyr."

"We can't have Alfred besting me," he said, sounding more like his usual self. He picked up his crook where it leaned on the well. "You need to sleep if you're going to watch the flocks tonight."

He gathered his animals from the hill and whistled for Freya and Nosi. In a patch of land just south of the meadow, he began to teach the puppy commands. How to gather the sheep together. How to walk behind them to guide them. She did well, though at times she grew distracted. Charles smiled at her chasing a squirrel before calling her back.

The animals had been moved to the meadow, and he was busy untangling a lamb from a hawthorn bush when he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He squinted, shading his eyes with his hand, at the figure making her way across an abandoned field of wildflowers.

Daisy.

He had seen her run before and knew how fast she could be. But now she ran a few short steps, then slowed down before speeding up again. Twice she stopped and bent over. By the time she got close enough for him to really see her, he realized what was wrong with her.

"Papa," she sobbed, tears pouring down her red, blotchy face. She threw herself into his arms.

"Is it May?" he asked, his heart pounding. "Does she have the fever?"

He was terribly afraid of her answer. Only one thing would make his daughter cry that badly.

"She-she's _dead_ ," she gasped, clutching his cloak. "And-and Master Drake, and Mistress Petunia-"

" _All_ of them?" His voice cracked, his heart falling within him. _And she went alone, and found a house full of the dead…_

Daisy shook her head. "N-no," she stuttered. "Jacob's alive, but he's got the fever too. He was trying to bury his mother and his strength gave out. I found him crawling toward the house." She shuddered, fresh sobs pouring out of her, her voice rising in horror. "He's younger than Thomas, and his whole family is _dead_!"

Charles wasted no time. He whistled to Freya and told her to gather the sheep by the ash tree. He knew Elsie's dog would protect them.

"We have to tell your mother and the lads," he said as gently as he could, his arm hooked beneath Daisy's shoulders. His chest felt tight. Soon, very soon, he would give in to his own grief, but in the meantime he had to help his neighbors. Tears came to his eyes.

 _Neighbor. Jacob is the only one._

 _That poor lad._

Daisy nodded, but she could not stop crying. Her father picked her up as if she were a tiny child, and carried her to the house.

"I will go with you," Elsie said immediately when he told her what happened. Her face was white. "Never mind my rest, I have to help-"

"I need you to watch the flocks," Charles said. "Alfred is sleeping, and I need the other two to help bury Petunia."

"And I need to look after Jacob, if he is to live," she argued. "I won't have you, Daisy, going back there-"

"I want to," the girl said thickly. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but clear. She cleared her throat and stood up straighter. "I've known May all my life. I want to say goodbye. And Mother," she reached out and took Elsie's hand. "I don't want _you_ getting the fever. I've had it before. It's not so bad."

Charles and Elsie held a silent conversation. It was true that the goddess would be fine, but Daisy could never know that. But what if their daughter became ill?

 _We have all likely been exposed to it already. Whether they know it or not_ , Elsie thought.

"All right," she said finally. "But Daisy, remember what I said – wash with clean water after you're finished there."

* * *

There was an eerie silence as the small group approached Drake's farm. Andy and Jimmy pulled their tunics over their noses at the sight of Petunia's body, half covered in dirt. Charles felt his belly twist. A brown buzzard inched near the corpse.

"Shoo!" Charles bellowed, chasing the bird away, hitting it with his crook. He went into the barn where the horses whinnied at him. Reminding himself that they needed to be fed before he left, he found several wooden shovels. "James, Andrew, bury Mistress Petunia as well as you can." He gave them to the lads and went with Daisy into the house.

It was dark, and there was a foul odor in the air. "Jacob?" Daisy called. Father and daughter breathed sighs of relief when they heard the young man answer, his voice weak. Daisy removed a blanket from the window so they could see. Sour milk was spilled on the floor, and several rats scattered from a half-eaten moldy loaf of bread.

"We will help you as soon as we carry your aunt outside," Charles told Jacob, touching his arm. The lad's skin was hot to the touch. Daisy opened a water skin to let him drink, but he was so weak Charles had to lift his head.

"It happened so fast," Jacob whispered. "Dad had the fever two days ago and was gone by sunset. By the next morning Mum was fading fast, and she died before midday. By then Aunt May couldn't move from her bed. I don't know-" he coughed. "-when she died. I just know when I got up today to see how she was, she was gone." He choked back a sob, a tear running down his face. "I tried to bury Mum. The gods know I tried-"

"And they know you are a good son," Charles said. He never thought much of Petunia, but he could hardly blame her son for missing her.

He opened the door further to let in more light. May lay on her sheepskin as though she was sleeping, but several flies crawled in her hair. Her eyes were still open.

They wrapped her in a blanket and carried her outside. Jimmy and Andy had finished burying Petunia next to her husband. Charles and Daisy helped them dig a hole for May, and in a short time, they were able to lay her gently in the ground.

Daisy sat down next to the three mounds of dirt. "I will say prayers for them," she said. "It's the least I can do." Her chin wobbled a little. Andy sat down next to her, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"James," Charles said quietly, "Go feed the horses. And give them fresh water, please."

The young blond man usually argued against any extra work, but he only picked up the other shovels and went to care for the animals. Charles knew he was thinking of his mother.

Both of the apprentices looked shattered.

He drew some water from the well and carried the bucket inside. Jacob was asleep, but he woke him anyway. Wetting a cloth, he bathed the lad's face, neck, arms and legs, then unwrapped some food Elsie had sent with him. Charles had to feed him one bite of bread at a time.

"I can never repay you for this, Master Shepherd," Jacob whispered. "Thank you for your kindness, to me and my family."

"Sleep," Charles said. "Someone will come and tend to you as soon as we can. I am leaving fresh water and some food for you. Try not to worry about anything else," he tucked a blanket around his shoulders. "And never mind about repaying anything. I know if it was my family in trouble, you would help us."

He had some hope. If Jacob had lived this long, there was a good chance he would make it.

He hoped.

Scrubbing the floor, he was glad of the breeze that carried some of the foulness in the stale air away.

* * *

The evening meal was a silent one. Elsie could hear every bite and swallow from the others. Charles forced himself to eat, knowing if he didn't he would be hungry long before morning. He had to choke down his fish.

Daisy ate hardly anything. She pushed the food around in her bowl, round and round.

Elsie felt terribly guilty she had given in to the girl's request.

 _I should have gone to Drake's. It was bad enough she saw them dead, then to say prayers over them!_

But she also felt conflicted. Daisy had known the neighboring family since she was born, and May had been a guiding figure to her since Alice had died. Surely her daughter deserved the chance to say goodbye to her friend and neighbors.

Her head throbbed and her heart ached after Charles had told her of what they had found at the farm. Something told her he had seen worse.

Her husband cried himself to sleep in her arms.

On the hillside late that night, she stared up at the glimmering stars in the inky-black sky. How could there be such beauty, and such ugliness at the same time? How did mortals live with it?

She longed to talk with Sybil. The Goddess of Peace had an insight into death that she did not. And she longed to see Thomas and Edward, just to make sure they were all right. She hoped with all of her might that the lads had not caught the fever.

She shivered, despite it being a warm night. Death was a strange thing. Few of the gods understood it, and most chose not to think of it at all.

There had never been a reason for her to speak to her uncle Hades about it before.

How did he decide which mortals to bring to his dark realm? And why, and when?

Tom might know.

The thought of her merry son-in-law made her smile. He would likely tell her it was none of her concern, and pretend she was trying to get secrets out of him.

Andy came to watch the flock while it was still dark.

"I am surprised to see you this early," she whispered. Somehow at the deepest part of night, talking any louder seemed wrong.

He sat down beside her, wrapping his cloak around him. "I couldn't sleep."

"You worked hard," she stood up, patting his shoulder. "You'll tire yourself out if you don't rest."

"I'll be all right. Good night."

Elsie stood a moment, hesitating. He did not look in her direction, but stared blankly at the ground.

"Really, Mistress. I'll be all right."

 _You are not_ , she thought, but she knew she could not push him to talk.

"Well," her voice was light. "Good night, Andy."

Inside the house, a low fire burned in the hearth. Elsie set aside her cloak and was about to lay down next to Charles when she heard a low cry. She pushed aside the blanket that hung next to Daisy's bed. It was a recent addition, as Daisy wanted some privacy when she was home. Her parents had agreed.

The girl rolled over, her breathing loud, deep in slumber.

Elsie let out a breath.

 _Just a bad dream._

 _That is no surprise, after what she's seen._

Part of Daisy's blanket had moved when she rolled over. Elsie reached down to pull it over Daisy's shoulder, but she gasped when her hand brushed the girl's face, and she dropped it. She pressed the back of her hand to her head, just to be sure.

She scrambled across the room and shook Charles. He groaned, then sat up when she whispered his name frantically.

"What's wrong?" He mumbled.

"Daisy," she whispered, close to tears. "She has the fever."


	53. Regrets

**A/N: TW for more bad news. The next few chapters are going to be dark, with a lot going on.**

* * *

Despite Elsie's protests, Charles convinced her to go to sleep. He would sit with Daisy until she woke.

He built up the fire so he could better see his little girl. She was more restless than usual, tossing and turning.

Her skin was warm. Too warm.

Charles had nodded off when he heard a gasp. Daisy thrashed on her bed, tangled in her blanket.

"Papa," she croaked, half sitting up. Her eyes were feverish, unfocused. He caught her before she fell backwards, pulling her shoulder against his chest. She licked her lips. "I'm thirsty."

He got her a water skin, and she drank almost half of it. "Rest," he brushed a kiss along her hair. She sank back down on the sheepskin. Already she seemed exhausted.

Daylight brought little change. He went outside and drew water from the well. While he was there, Remme trotted through the early-morning mist. She followed Charles into the house, and laid down next to her favorite person.

"How is she?" Elsie asked sleepily when she woke halfway through the morning. She came over to sit by Charles. He had drenched a scrap of cloth and was trying to cool Daisy.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure...maybe a bit cooler, but that might be because of the cloth." He dipped it in the bucket again, wringing it out. Elsie laid her hand against Daisy's neck. The girl mumbled in her sleep, turning her head a little.

"She feels the same as last night," Elsie whispered, moving her hand so Charles could put the cloth back. She rubbed his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "It is not your fault. You're doing the best you can."

"I never should have let her go to Drake's yesterday," he murmured, tears pricking his eyes. "What sort of father am I?"

"A father who loves his daughter, and who knows he cannot protect her from everything." Elsie rested her head against his. Remme whined, and she leaned over and rubbed her belly. "Have you milked the goats?"

Charles jerked his head so fast he bumped against Elsie, making them both wince. "Ouch! No, I'm sorry," he muttered. "I should do that now…"

"You should _not_ ," Elsie got up from her knees. "Stay with her. I will milk them." She smiled a little. "Isn't that why you taught me?"

The animals in the pen were loud, as it was later than usual for them to be milked. After bringing in what they gave her, Elsie set to work making bread and cheese. It was warmer than the previous day, and the heat of the fire made her sweat. Charles kept the door open, and made sure the window was unblocked. Daisy tossed a little in her sleep, clearly uncomfortable.

He did not want to go watch the flock, but knew he must. He waited until Elsie returned from visiting Jacob.

"He said he feels better, and he is," she said, sighing in relief. "His fever broke last night – his blanket was drenched. I brought in some more water for him, but I left him to wash himself. The poor lad…he kept saying how quiet it was." She wiped her eyes.

The three mounds of dirt outside of Jacob's house were a stark reminder as to why.

The air seemed thicker when Charles went outside. Clouds blocked the sun. He talked to Andy for a short time about the flock. He said nothing to him about Daisy, not wanting to worry the lad.

 _When I go back to the house later, hopefully she will be better._

He had not been in the meadow long when Jimmy came sprinting up the hill.

"It's Alfred," he panted, holding his side. "He's got the fever."

Charles leaped to his feet and followed him back to the hut beneath the giant oak tree, bringing Ve, Nosi, and the flock with them. His heart pounded.

 _First Daisy, now Alfred!? How many of us will the fever strike?_

The image of Jacob's family was clear in his mind.

The red-haired apprentice lay sprawled on the floor. Andy lifted an old tunic out of a bucket of water and put the soaked cloth on him. Alfred shivered, his face almost matching his fiery hair.

"Too hot," he mumbled, trying to throw off the tunic. Andy looked up in a panic.

"He's burning up. And talking funny – he thought I was Vyr." Alfred's puppy, identical to her sister Nosi except for her coal black fur, whimpered from the corner.

"Never mind that," Charles wrapped the tunic more securely around Alfred. Fear clawed at his heart, but he tried not to show it. "It happens sometimes. You did the right thing. We have to try to cool him down, no matter what he says." He grabbed Alfred's hand before the lad yanked the tunic off again. "Or does."

Jimmy watched his cousin, his face pinched, from the doorway. "We thought about carrying him to your house, but we didn't want to bring the fever there."

The shepherd sighed. "It's too late for that now," he said, the words coming out harsher than he intended. "Daisy has the fever. She took ill during the night."

" _What!?_ " The two lads cried out. A look of utter horror covered Andy's face.

"No…by the gods… _no_ …"

Jimmy turned away, backing towards the wall. "We're all going to die," he said, his voice loud. "We're all going to have the fever before it's over, and we're all going to _die_."

"We are NOT," Charles thundered. He got up and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Where there is life, there is hope. Pull yourself together, James!"

The young man blinked and met his eyes. He nodded slowly.

 _Poor lad. He's just lost his mother, and he's terrified._

 _So am I._

"Right," Charles continued, bending over next to Alfred again, "Andrew, you need to rest, but not in here. Go to the meadow. James, help me with your cousin. Let's carry him to our house." He picked up Alfred by the shoulders, the blanket hanging off his long frame. Jimmy grabbed Alfred's feet.

They carried him out of the hut and down in between the two hills. The sheep bawled as they passed by. Freya, Ve, and Nosi stood in front of the gathered flock. The dogs' heads only turned when Vyr, unnoticed by the men, followed behind them. Charles stumbled a little, walking backwards, as they started up the hill towards the house. Alfred was not light.

Elsie stood up when they came in, her eyes wide. "He's ill as well?" It sounded more like a statement. "Let's put him here, nearer the hearth." She took Alfred's arm, helping to lay him down as gently as they could.

"Vyr," he mumbled, his eyes opening slightly, "Silly dog…I said _forward_ , not back…"

His puppy lifted her head from where she had laid down, snuggled next to Remme. She barked.

"Shhh," Elsie murmured, glancing at Daisy. The girl did not move but slept on.

"James," Charles said quietly, "Go back outside. I will be there shortly, to take half of the flock back to the meadow. We will watch Alfred," he said as the apprentice hesitated.

"I'll come back and see him later." Jimmy vowed, his hands clenched. He walked out, leaving the door open.

Charles sighed. "We may need some help." Now that the storm was upon them, strangely he felt calmer. Concentrating on what had to be done was better than worrying about what might happen.

"I know," Elsie pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. "Only two of them are ill now, but I worry about Andrew and James. They went to Drake's, too."

"Alfred did not, and he has the fever." Charles ran a hand through his hair. "To be honest, I am worried about _myself_ as well. I've had the fever before so I may not get it again…but Daisy was ill with it when she was younger, and she has it now."

Elsie bit her lip, smoothing a blanket over Alfred before standing up. "Should I go to Downton? Find someone? From what Alfred said, it does not sound like I would find anyone to help. But how else can we find someone? I don't want to leave them." She glanced at Daisy across the room, then at the lad next to them.

"Nor do I want you to," he hugged her. "We will just have to do the best we can for now. Maybe Daisy will feel better later, and then one of us can go see if we can find help."

Throughout the day, however, their daughter did not improve. She did not seem any worse than before, small comfort though it was. Elsie fretted about Alfred. The lad talked often as if others were there. His mother and father, his aunt Sarah. The latter's name reminded the shepherdess that his relatives needed to be told. She wrote a short letter to his aunt, but left it sitting on the low table. How could she send it when she could not leave the house?

Near to sunset, she went out to get a breath of fresh air. Sparrows chattered wildly in the tree above the house. Gorse, with its bright yellow flowers, bloomed below her down to the road.

She heard Charles calling her name.

Further up the hill, above the goat pen behind their house, she saw him walking with his arm around Andrew. The lad leaned against him.

Her heart sank within her.

 _Not him, too!_

She hurried over to them.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," Andy mumbled, his face flushed. "I woke up and didn't feel well…"

"Never mind, just come along with us," she said, pulling his other warm arm around her shoulders. Her eyes met Charles's. Neither could disguise the fear they felt.

Andy rested as best he could across the room from Alfred. Jimmy hauled in more water after gathering the flocks back together. Then he picked up the tunics and blankets Elsie had hung to dry, and brought them in.

"Thank you for your help," Charles told him. "We'd best keep the animals together for now. We don't have enough people to watch them separately."

 _And hardly enough of us to watch ONE flock._

"You have to rest, my man," Elsie insisted after supper. "I will go and watch the flock tonight. James said he would stay up with the others until you're awake." The apprentice sat beside Alfred, his chin resting on his knees.

"Even if I have to pinch myself so I won't fall asleep." His young face was serious.

Charles followed Elsie outside.

"When will _you_ sleep?" Pulling her towards him, he felt her strong arms around him.

"After I get back," she whispered. "I'll get by." She kissed him, lingering on his lips for a moment.

She was mightily relieved when James took over the watch as dawn neared. There had been no visible change with the others.

Charles surprised her with fresh fish when she returned to the house. "An early meal for us," he whispered, handing her a bowl. "You haven't eaten all night." Her belly twisted hungrily. The fish were too hot to eat right away, so they talked in low voices as the other three slept around them.

"Daisy feels cooler," she yawned. "I am _so_ glad she ate when you brought her food! And Alfred is resting easier."

"Yes. Andrew is a little worse, I think, but every time I give him water, he drinks it." They both turned when the lad suddenly cried out. Elsie set aside her bowl and went over to him. He tried to sit up when she touched the side of his face.

"Mum?" he whispered. In the dim light of the hearth fire, his eyes darted everywhere, finally resting on hers. He grabbed her tunic. "Mum, don't leave me…please…I…I went into the field and the bull chased me. I was so scared..." he started to cry.

"It's all right," Elsie said, half to him and to Charles, who had started to get to his feet. She hummed and pulled Andy into her lap, his head against her shoulder, suddenly feeling the need to comfort him. She had held Daisy like that the day before to get her to go back to sleep.

At times she remembered how young they were.

They were children.

 _When Harmony married, and the gods began to argue among themselves over me, Andy's great-great-great-grandfather was a young lad!_

Andy was incoherent until his sobs quieted and he slumped against her, falling back asleep. Elsie laid him back down, and returned to her uneaten fish. She finished her meal to find Charles staring at her.

"What is it?"

He set aside his empty bowl. "It's nothing."

Sighing, she stacked her bowl on top of his. "It is not 'nothing', but I am too tired to talk about it now."

And she knew he did not want to talk about it, either.

Both knew it would change nothing.

When she got up to go to bed, he took her hand and led her outside, closing the door behind them. The eastern sky was grey. The white cloth tied to the stave was barely visible.

He cupped her face in his hands, his soft lips finding hers. Despite her fatigue, she hummed into his mouth, her body coming alive.

 _We should not. Not here. Not now._

 _Not while the children are inside, not while they are unwell._

"I do love you so very much," he rumbled, his hands sliding across her shoulders and down her back.

They kissed, she unwilling to hold herself back. That voice of his was seduction itself. And it was irresistible.

 _I am tired and my husband is frightened._

 _I am frightened, too._

 _Of losing him._

"I love you," she whispered, her fingers curling into his hair.

He brushed his sizable nose against hers before kissing her again. Slowly.

She lost her breath, moaning as he pressed against her. His tongue flicked along her jawline. The solid wooden fence of the goat pen was at her back.

Any thought of her fatigue had fled.

"If you want me to stop, I will." His heart hammered in his chest. The taste of her was pure desire. With every breath, he felt it fill him, seep into his blood.

 _What if the fever takes me? What if this is our last time? We have not made love in days._

For an answer, she wrapped her arms and legs around his broad torso. He caught her and held her up, the friction of their bodies together making him moan. "Never stop," she breathed, capturing his lips again. "Never, never…"

Usually they took their time, enjoying each other. But this time was different. Death lingered nearby, and uncertainty hung in the air. They moved frantically, quietly, as the dawn broke behind the hill.

He needed her. She needed him.

 _Be with me, my love. Stay with me. Who knows what the day will bring?_

The way she gasped, her teeth grazing his ear, nearly made him lose his mind. She loved the way he held her, the feel of his strong hands.

Touching her everywhere.

He had no clear memory of her unknotting his belt. Or how she did it. But he relished the sound of his wife crying out his name.

Her man, what he did to her. From the way he buried his face in her shoulder to muffle his ever-louder voice, she had just as great of an effect on him.

His legs were shaking when she slid down to the ground again, her skirt bunched above her knees. She stumbled into him. Her own legs were weak and damp with sweat. They stood still for a moment, their arms around each other. Her head against his pounding heart as they caught their breath.

He kissed the palm of her hand, and each one of her fingers, then let go to allow her to walk into the house first. There was a deep blush on her face, and his hair was wild.

Elsie could not bring herself to feel guilty, especially when she saw the other three still sleeping soundly. She slept better than she had in days.

A small part of Charles whispered that such goings-on were not right. Not while the fever raged. Still, he smiled as he watched over Daisy and the apprentices.

He regretted nothing.

* * *

It was near midday when Elsie removed fresh bread from the fire. She hummed low, but looked up when she heard Alfred stir.

The young man tried to sit up when she knelt next to him. "I'm cold," he mumbled, reaching for the blanket in a heap at his feet. Elsie touched his forehead, then his wrist.

"Your fever has broken," she said, feeling immense relief. She made sure he was covered completely, and gave him some bread. Then she moved on to Daisy.

"Daisy," she whispered, her fingers on her daughter's cheek. "Wake up. I have some food for you."

"Mmm hmm," the girl murmured, her eyes fluttering open. To Elsie's relief, she obediently ate several bites of bread and some figs, then drank cool water.

"That tastes good," she whispered. "The water…and the figs."

"Good," Elsie smiled, brushing back strands of her hair. She kissed her girl on the forehead. "Go back to sleep."

The shepherdess was disappointed Andy did not eat, but he did drink from the water skin as she held his head.

A line appeared between her eyes as she took in his sunken eyes, his limp limbs.

 _What else can I do?_

"Hello?"

A woman's voice called from the outside. Elsie gently laid Andy back down and covered him up again. Making her way to the door, she peeked out. A woman was just visible, standing just beneath the brow of the hill. She looked familiar, but Elsie could not remember where she had seen her before.

"There is fever here," she called softly. "You should not come any closer."

"I know, Mistress," the woman answered. "But I come from Downton. There's fever everywhere there, too. Besides," she continued, "Anna sent me."

Elsie opened the door wider. "Jane!"

The young widow smiled as Elsie came out to greet her. "I wondered if you remembered me." Her eyes grew serious. "I'm sorry the sickness has reached here."

"It has reached everywhere, the last we heard," Elsie said. "Daisy and Alfred had it first here, and now Andy. What news is there? Is Anna all right?"

Jane told her all she knew, which was quite a lot. Anna was fine, as was Phyllis and Lily, and Jane's son Freddie. All of them were staying at John and Anna's house while the fever raged. Jane was going between their house and Downton, bringing messages and news to and from John.

The blacksmith had been caring for his apprentices as best he could, until he had felt feverish himself. He had managed to carry the boys, with Joseph's help, to the temple. The wheelwright had then taken his friend in. The two men both had the fever, but Jane hastened to say that Joseph had recovered, and had told her the evening before that John's fever had broken.

The boys, as far as she knew, were better. They were still at the temple being cared for.

Violet had battled the fever and had somehow won.

"What about Master Bill?" Elsie asked, sitting on the warm stone of the well. She felt weak with gratitude for Anna's sake that John would live. And that Violet was still among the living.

Jane swallowed, removing her hood in the sunshine. "I'm so sorry…he died three days ago."

Elsie's breath caught, and tears filled her eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand.

 _That gentle man. He loved his granddaughter so very much…Charles will be very upset._

 _How are we going to tell Daisy?_

"Master Joseph was with him, and Master John," Jane said, her voice shaking a little. "He said he loved his family very much, and he wanted Daisy to know he loved her, too." She reached out and touched Elsie's sleeve. The shepherdess took a deep breath.

"That was very kind of him, to remember her," she whispered, dabbing her eyes. With some difficulty, she told Jane about Drake, Petunia, and May. The young woman staggered and clutched at the wooden stave to regain her balance.

"I did not know them well, but I sometimes saw the women at the market," she said, her eyes wide. "I should go and see Jacob after I leave here. That poor lad…"

"Could you?" Elsie asked. "I would go to see him again, but-"

"You have to look after your own. I understand," Jane said. "Oh! I nearly forgot. John thought you and your husband would like to know – the king and queen arrived at the hall two days ago. Martha was ill, and the queen wanted to be with her."

"Martha? How is she?"

But Jane shook her head. "She was buried this morning."

Elsie felt as though someone had struck her. She had not talked with the matchmaker often, but somehow knowing the feisty older woman was gone hit her hard.

 _I cannot imagine her dead. Or Master Bill._

She struggled to remind herself that they would never see the old man sitting around their table again. And May would never walk across the fields to chat, or complain about her sister-in-law. As if from a distance, Jane's voice broke through her muddled thoughts.

"…took a turn for the worse. Master Richard looked terribly worried yesterday, and I haven't heard anything today-"

"Who else has the fever?" Elsie broke in. She wanted to know, and yet was afraid to know.

 _More people will die before this is over. Charles was right._

"The queen," Jane said, clasping her hands together. "Her servant Sarah hasn't left her side since she took ill. That's what one of the guards told me in the village."

"No…" Whispering, Elsie closed her eyes. She knew how much Robert and Cora loved each other.

"He told me the king had felt feverish too, but was well after one day. Some people are barely touched, and others waste away. It's strange," Jane mused.

"I have a letter for her," Elsie felt numb. "Sarah. Telling her about Alfred…he is better. Wait," a horrible thought came to her. "Did Thomas or Sybil come with the king and queen? Is Edward with them?"

"No. They're all still at the palace," Jane reassured her, and Elsie sighed in relief. "The king and queen only traveled with a few servants, but they left most of them behind. Lady Mary and Master George did not come with them, either. They wanted to keep him safe."

"Of course," Elsie murmured. _At least I can tell Charles our children are well._

"Why don't you give me the letter for Sarah? I'll see that she gets it," Jane said. "She would want to know, especially seeing as she's so close. If her Ladyship recovers…" she swallowed, "Sarah can come and see her nephew."

"All right." Elsie saw the sense in what she said. She went into the house and got the letter, handing it to the young woman. "Thank you for going to see Jacob, and for taking the letter. And…if it's true that John is better, would you mind telling him the news from here? And Anna and the others? They would want to know."

"I will. And I'll come back, probably tomorrow if I can." Elsie watched her climb to the top of the hill. Jane waved before going on to Jacob's house.

Elsie wondered how the woman had managed to go between all these places without getting the fever herself. She doubted the young widow would be spared.


	54. The Heavy Weight

**A/N: THIS IS THE SECOND CHAPTER POSTED TODAY.**

* * *

Sunshine beamed through the high windows in Eala's temple not long after midday. No matter how warm it was outside, the thick walls kept the huge building cool. Usually it was quiet.

But not this day.

The sound of many voices combined to make a dull roar.

Most of the stone floor was covered with people. The sick lay as close to the walls, to their sheltering coolness, as possible. Family and friends sat by their stricken loved ones, talking, sometimes joking, often weeping. The murmur of prayers was constant.

John pushed himself up with his crutch from Daniel's bedside in the middle of the room. "It is very good to see you hungry," he said. A grin cracked his face. It was the first time in days he had smiled.

He still felt weak, but he could feel himself growing stronger.

 _I must rest again when I go back to the forge. Anna would want me to._

The tow-headed boy grinned back, a speck of fish stuck to his face. "It feels good to be hungry. And I didn't want soup. Not _again_."

The blacksmith laughed, and ruffled the boy's hair. "I'm sure you didn't." His smile widened. "I was glad when Master Joseph gave me part of a shepherd's pie this morning. Your grandmother told me Toby ate a little soup earlier this morning. He said he was tired of it, too."

Daniel nodded in sympathy. "Maybe the priestess will let him eat something else later."

"I'm sure he hopes so," John said. "I'm going to see him now. In the meantime, finish your meal. I will be back at sunset."

"Don't tire yourself out, Master," the boy said. "I am glad _you_ are feeling better, too!"

"Me too." John smiled. "Me too."

In some ways it felt like after he had come back from the war. Knowing death had come so near, only for it to pass him by.

Along the southern edge of the wall, Richard sat next to Toby, his hand on his chest. John gazed down at his apprentice in shock. The boy's eyes were closed, and his mouth slightly open, his breathing shallow. His skin looked almost grey.

"I don't understand," John muttered. "The priestess told me he was well earlier!"

Richard looked up at him, grief and exhaustion mixed in his pale blue eyes. "This sickness is a strange one," he said shortly. He got up and motioned for John to follow him just outside the side door into the garden.

"He's dying," the healer rubbed his eyes. "I have done all I can, but the fever's taken all of his strength."

John felt his knees wobble, and he clutched at the wall for support. "No," he whispered. Tears started in his eyes. "I should have _done_ more, brought him here sooner-"

"You cared for him just as well at the forge as he has been here," Richard said. "Don't blame yourself. There's nothing else you could have done for him, especially when you were ill yourself." He put what was meant to be a reassuring hand on John's arm, but the blacksmith was not consoled. The healer continued. "Daniel is growing stronger every moment. He can leave here, if you wouldn't mind looking after him for a few days. He will still be a little weak, but he will heal. I promise."

Nodding, John wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I am glad his grandmother will live, too. She is the only one caring for him and his younger brother." He saw the older woman chatting with Isobel near the opposite wall.

"What about Toby? What about his family? He's not from Downton."

"His mother died giving birth to him, and his father abandoned him three summers ago." John felt a flash of long-buried anger. "Anna and I, and Daniel, are his family."

"I understand." Richard glanced back at the open doorway. "If he lasts until moonrise tonight, I will be surprised."

"I will come back before sunset," the blacksmith promised. He trudged out of the garden leaning on his crutch, his feet almost as heavy as his heart.

Downton was eerily quiet. A few people walked from place to place, but it was nothing like a usual day in spring at midday. John hardly noticed the colors of the blossoming flowers or the river rushing by.

 _How will I tell Anna about Toby? Sending a message doesn't seem to be the right thing to do, but do I risk going to the house? What if SHE gets the fever? And it isn't just her, it's Phyllis and Lily, and Freddie…_

Their neighbor Jane had sent her son to their house to help Anna. And, John suspected, to keep the boy from being tempted to go into Downton to see his friends. Jane had become John's link with Anna, coming to the forge in the morning to relay news, and to take back any news he had. He was relieved that, as of yet, no one at his house had the terrible fever.

Many people could not say the same.

He tried to fight back the tears that came, then let them fall, thinking of when he helped Joseph bury his father. Master Bill had died quickly.

Walking past the matchmaker's silent house, he was puzzling over his dilemma when he heard someone calling his name. He looked up, and saw Robert coming towards him.

"I heard you and the queen had come to the hall. I am sorry I could not attend the funeral," he said to his old friend.

The king's face was drawn, and he had lines under his eyes John had never seen before. "There's no need to apologize. Her Ladyship was too ill to attend herself, so I can hardly berate you for not being there."

"How is she?" John asked, sucking in his breath. "Joseph told me he had heard she was ill." He did not think he could bear hearing of another death.

Robert heaved a sigh. "Better, thank the gods. For a day or so I thought my whole life had gone over a cliff. But she pulled through." A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Cora is a wonder. When I told her Martha was dead, she wanted to make sure _I_ was all right."

"She must be very sad. She only has one mother." The blacksmith felt an old pain, thinking of his own.

"Yes. I think her greatest pain is that she wasn't with her. Not that she could have been. She was on the brink of death herself." Robert rubbed the stubble on his chin. "At least Martha was not alone. Cousin Isobel sat beside her at the end. If my mother-in-law had had enough strength to speak, she probably would have told her to find something better to do." He rubbed his face. "How Isobel has not had the fever, being in the middle of it, I will never know. But thank the gods that she and Mama are all right. My mother had the fever before we arrived, but she's almost fully recovered. Between her will and Isobel's, I don't think even the God of the Underworld would have dared to take her."

"Are you all right, milord?" John could not help but ask. His old friend spoke slower than usual. It was plain he had not slept much.

"I think so. I only had a touch of it. Lady Mary and Master George are safe at the palace. If only this death would end…" Robert's voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "Enough about me. What about Anna, is she all right? And your lads? They took ill some days ago. Mama told me."

"Anna is well, milord." John felt his heart ease a little at the thought of his wife. "And Daniel will recover. But Master Richard says Toby will not last the day." He stopped, unable to speak more.

"He's just a boy!" The king cried before controlling himself. "I'm so sorry, John." He let out a breath. "Truly. If there is anything I can do, tell me."

"Thank you."

"I wondered if you had seen Charles," Robert said, letting John regain his composure. "Thomas and Sybil have heard nothing of him since before we left the palace. They may have by now, but I wanted to ask you."

John shook his head. "No. I haven't seen him or anyone else there, not since Master Bill sent Daisy home. I hope they are all well."

It worried him that he and Joseph had no news of their friends.

A woman hurried past them, but turned quickly, hearing his voice. "John! I was hoping to find you. I thought you were at Joseph's house!"

"Jane?" John's eyes widened. "Is something wrong with Anna? Do I-"

The widow shook her head. "She's fine, as is everyone at home. She was so relieved to know that your fever had broken last night." Her smile slipped, seeing the king. "I beg your pardon, milord. I didn't recognize you at first-"

"Go on," Robert murmured. He was lost in thought, his hand on his chin.

Jane passed on the news that Elsie had given her. Robert was startled out of his reverie when he heard Charles's name.

"That poor man," his shoulders slumped. "As if he has not had enough to contend with in his life, now his only daughter has the fever!? And two of his apprentices? It will be a miracle if no one else falls ill! I will write to Lady Mary immediately," he said, turning to John. "She won't like them leaving, but Thomas and Sybil must be told about Daisy. They would want to be here."

He promised to return to Downton as soon as possible. He spoke quickly to the guard who stood in front of Martha's door, then rushed out of the village towards the hall, taking Elsie's letter from Jane.

"You look like you need to rest," Jane frowned at John, a line appearing between her eyes. "Anna would want you to recover your strength, not wear yourself out brooding. She told me to tell you that."

John half-grinned. "Of course she did. And I will rest."

He thought about telling her about Toby, but he did not have the heart to give her that burden. Not yet. Freddie was a good friend of his apprentice; he would be devastated.

"I thought I would go sleep at the forge," he said, trying to forget about the heavy weight of his grief for a moment. "No one has been there for days, and for all I know, someone may have come and stolen all my tools. And Joseph needs to have his home back without me underfoot."

"I went to the forge after Master Joseph told me you weren't at his house. I almost forgot," Jane clapped a hand to her forehead. "There was a man there. I told him I didn't know where you were, but he said he would wait for you no matter how long it took. All of your tools were still there. But of course the fire was out."

"What did he want? Who is he?" John asked curiously. _Who would want something from the forge now?_

The widow shook her head. "I've never seen him before. I would have asked him his name," she apologized, "And what he wanted, but I needed to find you."

"I am glad you did. Thank you for all of this, Jane. Anna and I will have to repay you for everything you've done, running all over for our sake. I think even the Messenger would be impressed."

She smiled. "It's what neighbors do. You both agreed to look after Freddie. That's enough for me, to know he's safe." She adjusted her hood, glancing up at the sky. Billowing clouds were beginning to fill the sky, casting shadows. "I think it will rain before the day is done. I'd better get to the temple. Freddie wanted me to visit Toby and Daniel."

John muttered goodbye as she walked away. He felt as though a stone had fallen into his chest, weighing him down.

 _She will know soon enough._

He stumped his way down the empty road past Joseph's house before turning to go to the forge. He was in no mood to hurry. The farther he walked, the more his anger grew. At his inability to help his friends, at his own body for failing him, at the wretched fever that threatened to devour them. At his own cowardice for not telling Jane about Toby himself.

At the fool who waited for the blacksmith in a village drowning in death.

 _Doesn't he know there are more important things to worry about than getting a blade sharpened, or a scythe made?_

A familiar hunched figure sat along the wall by the forge.

John stopped dead in the middle of the path, his bad leg and bodily weakness forgotten. His crutch slipped from his hand. The breeze picked up, bringing to his nose the sharp scent of sulfur.

" _Joe?_ "

The old man got to his feet. His bony knees cracked. His cloak was as torn and singed as ever, but John had never seen him with a wider smile. He felt tears coming to his eyes again, this time with happiness.

"My friend," Joe approached him, gently putting a hand on his arm. "I am _so_ glad to see you. You've looked better, but I wager you don't mind how you look just now."

His mortal friend was pale and thin, with shadows beneath his eyes.

"N-not at all," John stuttered, feeling as though he could laugh and cry at the same time. "I never expected to see you _here_! Today!"

He had not realized how much he had missed his friend, nor how much he had doubted that Master Burns would come back. He was very happy to be wrong.

 _Anna will be overjoyed!_

"Well, I'm here now," the old man said, keeping a firm grip on John's arm, "This fever is terrible. As far as I have traveled, it has left its mark. But I couldn't stay away from here." He almost looked guilty, like a child caught in the middle of mischief.

The last thing John wanted was to think of was the fever. And its cost. "What of your troubles? Did you ever find answers to them?"

Joe's smile faded. "No," he mumbled softly. He coughed, then cleared his throat. "I have not given up trying to find an answer, but for now, nothing has changed." He pushed a little on John's back and bent over to pick up his crutch. "Let's sit and talk. Tell me about Anna."

He helped John sit down beside the wall and shared a loaf of bread with him, listening to his friend tell him the news.

Above their heads the clouds built.

* * *

The flames flew up, throwing heat into the small space. Water dripped from the eaves of the roof that covered the forge. Rain still fell, but the brunt of the storm had passed and its thunder and lightning had moved south.

Victor sighed as he hammered a new scythe.

 _Maybe I should not have come._

 _You were not lying to him._

 _I couldn't stay away._

 _I did not want to._

He glanced at the slumbering blacksmith. John snored on a sheepskin by the far wall. He had gone to sleep, despite arguing that he wanted to stay awake and get some work done. He had even slept through the thunderstorm.

 _He is still weak from the fever._

 _That is your doing._

"What choice did I have?" he muttered to himself. He plunged the scythe into water, and it hissed, steam pouring everywhere.

Regret gnawed at him.

Athena had warned him not to thwart Hades.

" _It is not wise," she said as he bent over the fire, frantically tugging at his beard. In the flames, he saw John suffering from a high fever as Joseph tried to get him to drink from a water skin._

 _The goddess continued. "He rarely interferes with anyone else, so of course he expects us to do the same! And Victor, think. Even if you save them now, they are mortal." She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "They will all die someday."_

 _He looked up at her, his eyes smoldering. "I will not stand here and do nothing. They deserve some happiness before the King's brother locks them into his realm forever!"_

He had kept Death from taking the blacksmith.

It had only been his intention to save John and Anna. But with Phyllis and her baby at their home, and the neighbor's boy there too, he could hardly keep the fever from one but not the rest.

And so he had protected Jane, too. She was the only person to come there while the sickness raged.

Unbeknownst to the mortals, John and Anna's house was free of it.

Victor closed his eyes. Wiping his sweaty face with his dirty apron, he sat down, his heart heavy.

Athena, as always, had been right. He had thought about the apprentices too, but when he left the forge he thought the boys were safe. It was only when John told him about Toby that he realized not everyone he knew would be spared.

 _If the shepherd dies, that would be just._

He had only seen fleeting glimpses of Eala in his forge's fire. Fever was in the shepherd's house, but Victor had hardly cared. His only concern had been for John and Anna.

At what cost?

He could not be sure, but it did not seem like mere coincidence that Toby was dying _after_ he had made sure the blacksmith and his wife were safe.

The rain had stopped by the time he woke John.

"It's well after midday," he grunted. "You had best go to the temple now."

John rubbed his face, still drowsy. "Aren't you coming with me? Don't you want to see him while you can?"

The hidden god felt trapped.

 _I have never seen someone dying – not someone I cared for, anyway. Men screaming in battle is different._

 _And he's at EALA'S temple!_

Surely there could be nothing more foolish than to walk into _her_ sacred place. Even if she was not there. It seemed entirely too dangerous.

But there was no way he could say any of this to John.

"Of course I do," he said, hanging up the hammer to avoid the man's eyes.

He had no other choice than to go. And he did want to see Toby, however difficult it would be.

He and John walked through the quiet village. A soft, fresh breeze whispered through the tall grass by the riverbank.

"I am very glad you're with me," John said when they were in sight of the stone building. "I know Anna would have wanted to be here, but she agreed to stay away from Downton while the fever lasts. She'll be glad you were here, too."

Victor still resisted what was happening. "How do we know he is so ill?" He asked, curt. "Master Richard could be wrong-"

"He isn't wrong. Not this time," John responded, his voice grim.

The doors to the temple were open. Several people sat on the steps. Two women and a man tried to console another crying woman; another man, his face lined, sat staring blankly.

Richard was talking in a low voice to one of the temple girls when the two came up the stairs. Victor stopped, held back by an unseen barrier. He tilted his head back and breathed deeply.

The smell of sickness, sweat and death drifted from inside the building. To the mortals, it was all they would notice except for the faint fragrance of roses.

But to the Divine the essence of the goddess was far more powerful.

 _I forgot how captivating she is._

Her scent made him dizzy, and he caught his breath. For several moments he was overwhelmed with the desire to abandon the place, and run to her.

 _Beauty Unequaled, indeed._

He staggered a little, and put out a hand to steady himself against the wall near the doors. He held up his cloak to his face. Richard was speaking to John.

"…asking for you. Ah, Master Burns," the healer stood in the doorway. "I'm sure John is grateful that you are here now, but I must tell you I do not think it is a good idea for you to come in."

 _What?_

"I disagree," John argued, frowning. "What harm can there be-"

"Plenty of harm, to be sure," Richard stared at Victor. "Many of the poor souls who have succumbed to the fever are of advanced years. I would hardly be doing right by you to let you enter here, where the air is so foul."

His tone was entirely earnest, but the hidden god struggled not to laugh.

 _ **I**_ _do not think it is a good idea to go in, but for an entirely different reason!_

He frowned, putting on his best obstinate face. "I'll risk it," he growled, and brushed past the healer, following John.

Daniel and his grandmother sat by Toby. John was prepared to see him, as his appearance had not changed since earlier in the day. He sat down beside him, laying aside his crutch.

"Look who is here," he said quietly, lifting the boy's head. Toby blinked and took a long rattling breath.

"Old Joe," he whispered. Crouching down, Victor took his hand. It was cold.

Toby's grey pallor and the hushed atmosphere inside drove away Eala from his mind.

Mostly.

He had never liked nor understood death, but seeing the life ebbing away from his young friend made him hate it all the more. Not knowing how to respond to it, he decided to continue playing the old man.

"Hey now," he grunted, placing his other rough hand over Toby's, "What's this? The last time I saw you, you could hammer a blade like a man twice your size."

This was not true, but it made him happy when the corners of the boy's lips turned up.

"I wish I could…hammer away this fever," Toby murmured. His voice was so quiet Victor had to lean closer to him.

"So do I, lad. So do I." He felt a lump in his throat.

 _If only you knew how much._

 _I am sorry I didn't do more to save you._

"I'm glad to see you," the boy muttered. "Glad…"

Tears ran down Daniel's cheeks. His grandmother had her arm around him.

"You should rest, Toby," she said, gently pulling down the blanket over him. John smoothed down his hair. He glanced up at Victor and Richard, who stood close by.

"It won't be long now," the healer said softly. Toby drifted into a light sleep.

Victor held the boy's hand between his. The lad's courage was remarkable, he thought.

 _How do they do it? Face death, without knowing what is on the other side?_

 _At least he will have someone to guide him. He won't be alone-_

He took a shuddering breath, his muscles suddenly tense. It took all of his willpower not to drop Toby's hand and run out of the temple.

 _I_ _ **cannot**_ _stay here. Not until the end. HE would see me._

 _And he would tell her._

His eyes flickered up to the mural over his left shoulder. Of Eala and the Messenger.

Slowly, much slower than he wanted, he gently laid Toby's hand on his chest. He rubbed the boy's head, wanting to remember his face.

"You are a good lad," he whispered. "And you are never alone."

 _He will forget me._

His shoulders slumped in grief. He wondered if that is what it felt like to be old. To be weighed down by losses that could not be restored.

Shuffling to his feet, he cleared his throat. "Maybe you were right," he said to Richard. "I should not be here."

"Joe, please stay-" John began, but Victor was having none of it.

"I cannot. I came to bid him farewell, and I have. I'm sorry, John. I will see you back at the forge."

Before the blacksmith could protest, he made his way outside. Breathing heavily, he stumbled down the steps and fled to the forge.


	55. Home

It was near to sunset when John made his way slowly back to the forge. The sight of the fire surprised him a little. He shook his head, seeing the old man wielding the hammer.

 _Of course he went straight back to work._

He stopped under the eaves of the roof just as Joe sniffed, and wiped his face. The quiet sound of the man's crying tore open the fresh wound in his own heart.

For several moments he struggled to control himself. Before he could regain his composure, Joe turned around. The light of the fire reflected the tears in his eyes.

"He's gone?" He rasped.

John cleared his throat, but could not speak. He nodded.

The old man's lips twitched. He paced wildly in one direction, then turned back, his muscular shoulders rising and falling. Bending over, he seemed overcome with grief.

John flinched when Joe howled in anguish, and smashed the hammer down onto metal. Sparks flew everywhere.

* * *

Toby was buried the next morning.

John felt the lad deserved to have every ritual followed, for Anna's sake. But it was not possible for the boy's body to be laid out for viewing. Too many others had died, and the warmer weather meant a quick burial was the wisest course.

It was a small group that made its way north of the village to the cemetery. Between them, John and Joe carried Toby's coffin. Daniel and his grandmother Talitha followed just behind them with Jane. Isobel was at the back.

The cemetery was mostly quiet, though there were several people scattered on the hill mourning loved ones. None of them seemed surprised to see another procession.

The priestess chanted prayers as John and Daniel gave offerings. She did not stay long after they were done, as she was needed back at the temple.

"Thank you for being here, Jane," John said quietly.

The widow gave Daniel a hug, then embraced his grandmother. "I'm glad I could be here. Yesterday, Anna was adamant that she would be here, but early this morning…"

"She didn't feel well, and you and Phyllis persuaded her not to come," John finished. Beside him, Joe raised his head.

"Is she feverish?"

He knew she was not, but he had to ask for appearance's sake.

"No, not at all," Jane said. "Something she ate made her ill."

"I hope she feels better soon," he sighed. To hide his expression, he got up and grabbed a spade.

It was odd knowing something that would make his friends so happy, and be unable to share it with them. It felt even odder knowing the reason for his friends' happiness was Eala.

 _Indirectly._

He grinned to himself.

 _They had the fun, and She gave them the gift._

His smile faded when he looked at Toby's coffin.

 _I hope they never have to bury a child._

Joe and John had barely broken the ground when the wheelwright Joseph approached them. He had been putting flowers on his parents' graves, and said that he would be glad to help dig Toby's.

"You're still weak," he told John, "And Anna wouldn't like it if you overdid it."

"We will dig the grave," a deep voice said behind him. Four men stood nearby, dressed in the tunics of the king's guard, though none of them carried swords. Instead, three of them carried spades. Their leader looked at John.

"You are the blacksmith, John?"

"Yes," John replied, his eyes darting from the bearded man to his companions.

"We're here on the king's orders. Please, stay and mourn your friend while we lay him to rest," the guard said, gesturing to one of the other men. He brought a large basket over to them. "A feast has been provided for you also."

It was customary after a funeral to have a feast in the deceased person's honor. John had thought that impossible, considering the circumstances. Tears came to his eyes.

 _Robert, you did not have to do this._

"Thank you," he murmured. "Thank you so much."

They stayed on the hillside most of the morning, telling stories about Toby. Joe found himself laughing and crying at different times, though no one thought the worse of him for it. It hurt saying goodbye to his young friend.

But sharing memories with those who remembered Toby gave him comfort.

* * *

Elsie sighed and wrapped the small loaf carefully. Alfred was definitely feeling better. He had devoured everything she had put in front of him (which wasn't much), and had started fidgeting, not wanting to rest anymore.

"You must," she told him, raising her eyebrows. "I won't have you get up again. You drew the water and milked the goats this morning. That's more than enough."

"I'm tired of sitting here," he grumbled, scooping up Vyr to pet her. "I'm feeling _much_ better. I just want to help you – you've been doing everything!"

"I appreciate your concern, but no thank you," she smiled. "Maybe later this afternoon you can help me with the washing."

"Think of it, Alfred," Daisy said quietly from the corner. "Once you're on your feet for good, you won't get another chance to rest like this." She smiled.

Elsie sat down next to her, feeling her forehead and pressing her fingers on her daughter's wrist.

"I'm feeling better too," Daisy whispered. "I just wish my fever would break."

"So do I," Elsie's lips were a thin line. The girl's appetite was improving, and she felt much cooler than she had the day before. But she was still warm, and tired easily.

Andy was little better. She replaced the cloth on his head with a fresh one, and placed another damp one around his neck. He barely moved, still mostly asleep, while she tended to him. His eyes looked sunken in his face.

"If you can get him to eat some soup, I would be grateful," Elsie told Alfred. "Now," she grabbed the small loaf, a block of cheese and a small water skin. "I'm going to take some food to Charles. He must be famished; it's past midday. I'll be right back."

She sighed as she climbed the hill. The long days and short nights were beginning to take a toll on her. She was not afraid of catching the fever. If she did, it would not be lethal, but the worry over the young ones burdened her heart.

At least Charles and Jimmy were well, although tired.

The sheep bawled from the eastern end of the meadow. Charles stood leaning on his crook. As she approached him, he staggered a little, as if he were about to fall over.

"Whatever is the matter?" she cried, running to his side. She had a terrible feeling she knew what it was.

"I'm sure I'll be all right, if I can just stay still for a moment," he said weakly, sinking down onto the ground. Nosi whimpered at his feet.

Elsie set down the bundle of food and water skin and bent over him, her fingers brushing the side of his face, her hand on his broad shoulder.

He was warm, almost hot.

 _Oh no._

In the blink of an eye, she forced herself to keep calm.

 _I will not think the worst._

 _I can't._

"You will _not_ stay still, not out here," she told him, rather surprised at how calm she sounded, never mind how she felt. "Get to bed right now!"

"I can't," he protested. "We've only got James and he's run ragged…and Alfred is scarcely back on his feet."

"I'll deal with it," she took his arm, helping him to stand. "I'll help you back to the house, then I'll watch the flock." She hoped fervently that Jimmy was still well. The lad was asleep under the oak tree by his hut.

Charles turned to her. "Get Daniel to help us. John said he's well if we need him. He must have someone else helping at the forge, I suppose, now that Toby's gone-"

"Oh, very well, I'll ask him," she interrupted, not wanting to think about the poor boy's fate. "But only on condition _you_ go to bed!"

"How will you manage?" He persisted later, after they had gotten back to the house. Alfred sat feeding Andy soup, and Daisy was asleep.

"I won't burden you with it. Rest." She made sure the damp cloths on his face and neck wouldn't slide off, then she grabbed her cloak and covered him with it.

Charles shivered, and clung to the dark blue cloth. "Could I have some water, please?"

"Here," she knelt on the sheepskin and gave him the water skin. She set it aside when he had had enough. He sighed, his eyes closed, suddenly looking young.

She did not want to leave him. But she had to.

Leaning over, she kissed him softly on the lips. His eyes fluttered open.

"Try not to worry," he murmured. "Please, Elsie. I will fight this with everything I've got." He smiled up at her, the expression that she loved. "I want to live for many, many years to come."

The lump in her throat was almost too much for her to speak. "I want you to live, too," she squeaked. She rested her forehead against his for a moment. She kissed him once more, then got up and pulled the blanket across the room, giving him privacy. Taking her crook, she went out to watch the restless flock.

It was a good thing Freya and Ve were watching the sheep. She sobbed under the spring sky, all of her fears laid bare.

 _He is my heart._

 _I cannot do everything on my own, not for long._

 _The others mustn't see me cry…I have to be strong for them._

Sparrows flew from the trees near the stream, but they did not sing.

* * *

Light from the fire illumined Lady Mary's face as she read the scroll. A frown marred her face. Behind her, Madge lit several lamps, then left the room. The sun was setting outside, the horizon beautiful with colors of orange, pink and red contrasting with the darkening blue sky above.

"You sent for me, milady?"

The king's daughter startled from her reverie. "Sybil. I didn't hear you come in."

"Not more bad news, I hope?" The dark-haired servant asked gently, gesturing to the scroll.

Mary sighed. "I'm afraid it is. This came from Anna just this afternoon. It seems that Charles has the fever now as well."

Sybil's heart sank, and she closed her eyes. "No…"

"Daisy is better, though still weak, she writes. Anna's neighbor Jane has been visiting there. She's worried about Elsie, if she can cope."

A thousand thoughts ran through Sybil's mind – she hoped Charles was not suffering too badly; she worried about Daisy; she also was worried about Thomas and Edward, wherever they were; and she desperately wanted to talk to Tom. But one thought overshadowed all of them.

 _I_ _ **MUST**_ _go to Mother._

Even without the ability in mortal form to know her mother's thoughts, she knew she needed her.

"I have to go home," she said quietly, her hand shaking as she took it away from her mouth. "My family needs me. If…you will allow me, milady."

Her tone was not accusatory at all, but Mary felt her face grow warm. In truth, she was ashamed of herself. She looked at the floor.

"You must go, of course," she muttered in a rush. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at Sybil. "I should have let you go with Thomas and Edward yesterday, when Papa's letter came telling me about Daisy. But I was selfish, and did not want to lose all of you at once. I'm sorry."

It was difficult for her to say it. It would have been nearly impossible for her to say it to anyone other than Sybil.

Her servant had a way of making her confront her own weaknesses without being judgmental.

"I forgive you," Sybil gave her an understanding smile. "And if I might say, milady, you have carried the burden of overseeing the court well. It is not easy to do on your own. And you were worried about the king and queen, too."

"I was not entirely alone. You and Thomas in particular have boosted my spirits while Papa and Mama have been away. I am truly grateful for that." She smiled, and it reached her eyes.

"I'm glad we have been able to help," Sybil replied. "And to tend to Master George while you were busy with other matters."

"He has a great deal of fun with you both," an amused gleam appeared in Mary's eyes. "Not as much as _you_ have, though." The two exchanged knowing grins. "I expect you want to leave for Downton as soon as possible," she continued, more serious. "At dawn, since it's sunset now. Master Henry will let Silas accompany you. I can't let you travel alone." The guard was a friendly young man, a good friend of Edward's.

"Actually…" Sybil clasped her hands together. "I don't think that will be necessary. You see, one of the local farmers stopped in the courtyard a little while ago. He and his wife are on their way to Ainderby. Gus is his name. I'm not sure of hers. They brought a foal for the stables, and they were still here when I came upstairs. If I hurry, I'm sure they will let me have a place in their wagon."

"Go," Mary said immediately. "They should be able to take you as far as Ottering before moonrise. The priestesses there worship the Harvest Goddess and not the Divine Lady, but they'll give you a safe place to sleep for the night. And they can arrange for someone to escort you on to Downton, if Gus doesn't want to."

It was a common custom for fellow travelers to help each other, but since the fever began many people were naturally fearful of doing so.

"Thank you, milady," Sybil let out a breath, relieved. She picked up several tunics on the floor. "I will give these to Madge to mend before I leave. She won't mind looking after you while I'm away."

"Don't worry about me. Or Master George," Mary stood up. "We will carry on just fine. Send a message when you've arrived in Downton, so I know you're all right."

She and Anna had a strong bond. But she had come to rely on Sybil. More than she cared to admit to anyone.

Even herself.

Sybil hurried to find Madge to tell her she was going home. The girl agreed to look after Lady Mary, and Master George when necessary, and told Sybil she should not worry about how long she would be away.

"My mum was ill during the last moon cycle, and you were kind to take care of my work while I was gone," she said, shifting the clothing in her arms. "I promised myself I'd do the same for you, if it came to it."

Thanking her, Sybil went and gathered her cloak and some food. She walked into the darkening courtyard, staying in the shadows. One of the gates was open. She slipped through it, waiting until the guards had their backs turned.

It only took a moment. She had done it many times before to meet Tom, or to sneak back inside after a night with her husband.

Gus and his wife had been in the courtyard earlier in the evening. But they had already left.

Sybil did not like lying to Lady Mary, but she did not want to wait for the dawn to leave. And even in mortal form, she could walk all night with little rest.

 _I need to get home as soon as possible._

She pulled up her hood and set off, leaving the road to cut across the open fields. The moon was visible behind her, growing brighter as the sunlight faded.

* * *

Richard held the water skin steady while Andy drank. The lad scrunched up his face and choked, spitting out most of the purplish liquid.

"As long as he swallows some of it, that's all that matters," the healer said. He nodded to Alfred, who was holding Andy upright.

"Come on," muttered Alfred, squeezing Andy's shoulder. "I know it tastes horrible, but it's for your own good."

Andy swallowed slowly, his face still contorted, his eyes squeezed shut.

"That is enough," the healer reassured Alfred. "Now let's lay him back down." They did so, then Richard stood up and moved aside the blanket hanging across the room. He struggled to find words for the waiting shepherdess.

Elsie seemed to know what he was going to say. Her face was pale, and there were shadows beneath her dark eyes. "If he survives until the morning, he'll live," he whispered finally. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes were full of tears. "I understand. Thank you for coming here. You did not have to."

Part of her wanted to scream.

 _No, not Andy, not a young lad like him! How many is the God of the Underworld going to take!? When will there be enough death for you, Uncle?_

Another part of her wanted to give in to everything she felt. But she could hardly do that – if she started weeping, she was afraid she would never stop. The strain of looking after everyone, and the flocks, was nothing compared to the worry over what might happen.

 _How many days has it been since Charles fell ill? I've lost count._

Her head felt like it would split in two.

Richard gave her a half smile. "Both Ivy and Isobel begged me to come, after Jane told me what had happened. I would be a very foolish man if I didn't listen to the women in my life. And I've known your husband since I was small," he said. "I care very much what happens to him, and to his loved ones." He gestured at Charles. "I'll see to him now. Could you wake Daisy? I need to give some of this to her after her father drinks it."

She sat down next to her daughter, feeling as though the weight on her shoulders would break her.

Daisy's arm was clammy. For several moments, Elsie's heart skipped. She felt her neck, and her face. Daisy murmured and opened her eyes.

"I'm cold."

Her blanket was damp.

 _Her fever is broken._

 _It's_ _broken_ _._

 _She will be well._

"Oh my dear girl," Elsie gasped, feeling a surge like a wave on the tide, "My dear, dear, girl, I am _so_ glad you are feeling better!" Her shoulders relaxed, and she felt relief so strong it almost made her giddy. She embraced her, pulling her into a sitting position.

"Me too," Daisy said into her hair. "Could-could I have something to eat? I'm still tired, but I'm hungry, too."

"Of course you can," Elsie pressed a kiss to her forehead, tears on her cheeks. "I made fresh bread this morning. There should be some left... as long as Alfred hasn't eaten it yet!"

Remme leaped up and climbed onto Daisy's lap, trying to lick her face. The girl laughed and hugged her excited and very happy dog.

Elsie got Daisy some bread and figs, then joined Richard next to Charles. The shepherd was awake.

"Love," she whispered into his ear. She could feel the heat from his fever on her lips. At the moment, though, all she cared about was telling him the good news. "Daisy's fever broke. She is going to be all right."

"Thank the gods," Richard flopped onto the floor next to Charles. He smiled, lines visible on his forehead.

Charles opened his eyes and licked his dry lips. "Her fever is gone? Really?"

"Yes." Elsie lifted his hand and kissed it, feeling like she would cry again. Her limbs felt heavy, like they had turned to stone. "Yes. She is better, at last."

He cleared his throat. His usually booming voice was soft. "I'm so glad…what about Andrew?"

"We'll know more in the morning," Richard said, stealing a glance at Elsie. "In the meantime, you rest. Hopefully that powder will bring down your fever."

Closing his eyes again, Charles grunted. "It tasted awful."

Despite her worries, Elsie laughed, tousling his hair. "That's my man. You grumbly bear." She kissed him, and helped Richard turn him onto his side so they could lay a fresh blanket on the sheepskin.

"Mistress," the healer said to her once they were back in the front part of the room, "You _must_ get some rest. You're wearing yourself out, and I'm amazed the fever hasn't touched you yet. You'll exhaust yourself."

"I will try to sleep," she mumbled, her eyes heavy. "But what could I do, especially after James took ill?"

Thankfully, the blond apprentice had recovered fast, the fever leaving him mostly unscathed. But he was still tired, and slept in the lads' hut across the hill.

"Of course, you had to do what you could," Richard said, impatient. "But if you don't get some rest soon, regardless of whether you have the fever or not, you could lose half the flock if you fall asleep during the watch. Or the hearth could blaze untended, starting a fire in here."

That did wake her up. "I know that," she said with some force. For good measure, she pinched herself on the palm of her hand.

She could only imagine what he would say if he knew she had not slept for at least two nights straight, and only a little at a time for however many days before that.

"I did send a message to John, but he said Daniel is still fragile. So for now it's only me and Alfred. He's watching the flock tonight."

He sighed. "I will stay tonight and sit by Andy. _You_ sleep."

Elsie sat near Charles on their side of the room. He muttered a little, twitching. She tried to keep awake, wanting to watch over him, but she fell over despite sitting with her knees pulled up to her chin.

Within moments of lying down she was asleep.

* * *

Richard had to shake her shoulder for a long time to wake her. "Elsie," he whispered once she had pulled herself upright, shuddering with huge yawns. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I wanted you to know. Andy's fever broke. He's resting quietly now."

It was still dark, not even the second watch of the night.

She had to go and see for herself to believe it. Andy's breathing was much easier, and by the light from the hearth, she could see that the faint greyish tint that had marked his skin was gone. His hair was damp.

"Daisy will be so relieved," she murmured. She thought about waking her daughter to tell her, but when she looked at the girl, she was snoring as usual. Elsie bit her tongue to keep from laughing out loud at the sight of Daisy and Remme sprawled together.

The dog snored even louder than her human.

Gently caressing the side of Charles's face, she was reassured that he too slept peacefully, though there was no change with his fever.

Grey light was beginning to break when she woke again, feeling very stiff but much more clear-headed. Thirsty, she got water from the well and brought it into the house. Richard had nodded off, his head bobbing up and down. The fire in the hearth had almost gone out completely.

It was very quiet.

Elsie poked at the red coals, trying to kindle more heat out of them.

The door flew open with a bang. She cried out without being able to stop herself, and dropped the tongs, her heart in her mouth.

"Where is Daisy? Is she all right? What about Papa?"

Thomas stood in the doorway. His cloak was muddy, and his black hair stuck out everywhere. Behind him, Elsie could just see Edward running past the well. Both young men were breathing hard. As if they had been running all night.

 _It would not surprise me if they were._

She put a hand on the edge of the hearth to steady herself. "Daisy is asleep. She's all right, she will be fine – she will be fine," she repeated, seeing a mirror of her own fear, anguish, and relief flash in her son's eyes. "Her fever broke yesterday evening. And your father is resting now."

Hardly had the words left her mouth when he strode past her behind the hanging blanket.

"I hope we didn't wake you," Edward murmured, glancing at Andy and the sleeping healer. She smiled and clasped his hand, shaking her head. "You can probably imagine how Thomas has been. If he could have run in his sleep we would have been here sooner."

Both of them turned at the sound of voices. Elsie pulled back the blanket so they could see.

Thomas wept, his head on Daisy's shoulder as she tried to comfort him. The other two heard some of what passed between them.

"I…was so s-scared…I thought...you…"

"Shhh…I'm all right…I'm here…"

Elsie dropped the blanket, giving them time alone. Her heart was full.

* * *

Fear.

It had gnawed at Thomas since the moment he had heard Lady Mary read the scroll from the king. It had crept into his bones, seeping underneath his skin, like another hideous fever.

Except this one could not be cured by a healer's powder, or by any other remedy he and Edward heard about as they made their way south on the road.

Effects of the fever were everywhere. It had been impossible to ignore the empty fields, the wailing they heard as they had passed through a tiny hamlet. The little girl in the front of a funeral procession who had stared blankly ahead, her eyes lifeless. Behind her, mourners carried two bodies in coffins.

Doors had been closed to them. If they were lucky, someone had answered when they knocked to ask for fresh water, or a place to rest.

"Grantham is cursed," one old man had croaked as he sat beside the road, south of Ainderby. "The gods have cursed our land. And the king, too. The queen gave him a son, but he died before taking his first breath. What kind of a king has no son? He's only got girls, and just two of them! Who will defend the kingdom if we are attacked? We are lost, lost-"

Thomas had turned with a snarl, to remind the old goat that the king _did_ have an heir, as well as a perfectly capable daughter, but Edward had dragged him away before he could say anything.

"Don't," his mate had murmured in his ear, pulling on his cloak. "He's raving. Leave him."

They had, but the old man's words had stayed with Thomas. They had brought back all his old fears, along with the new ones.

Cursed. _Cursed._

 _Lost._

Was he cursed by the gods, if any existed? His heart whispered that they did, hard as he tried to ignore it.

Was he lost, destined to live his life haunted by a shadow he could not escape? By something that lived in his mind?

His mother dying when he was a young boy, and now Daisy's illness…were these things that were chance, that could happen to anyone, or was there a reason behind them?

He had tried to brush aside his guilt over his father, at their ongoing conflict about the gods.

Thomas's fear had grown even more when they stayed with a farmer north of Downton. Tim and his wife Margie had buried their only daughter, and two of the orphans they had taken in. The four children who had lived had told the young men the news while they shared their evening meal.

The wheelwright's father, dead. A score of temple girls dead or dying. Whole families found together in silent houses. A shepherd's daughter and his apprentices stricken by the fever, and the shepherd himself lately taken ill…

"That's enough," Tim had frowned at them, and apologized to his guests. "To be sure, we've had our losses, but things aren't as dark as they may seem. Master Richard says we're past the worst of it now."

Thomas and Edward had gone into the small shed to rest for the night. Thomas had tossed and turned, and had not slept at all.

He had been so worried about Daisy, he had never thought that the fever could have stricken his father, too.

 _What if he dies?_

There was no doubt in his mind that the shepherd Tim's sons talked about was his father.

His Papa.

Thomas had called him that when he was a small boy. But after his mother had died, and he felt the stinging cold of his father's rejection in favor of the unseen gods, he had begun calling him Father. He told himself that it was part of growing up. That the formal name sounded better coming from a man in the king's court, rather than the childish _Papa._

Deep in his heart, he knew he really used the name because he knew it hurt his father. Neither of them had ever mentioned it, but every time Thomas spoke it, he saw a flicker of pain in the shepherd's eyes.

Edward had woken from a light sleep at his touch. They had left the shed and were pulling on their cloaks in the darkness while the moon was still high when Tim approached them, carrying a lamp.

He had given them food, and wished them well. "Send us word when you get home. I don't know your father well, but I'd like to know how he is."

Dawn was breaking on a pale grey morning when they had run past the path that led to the shrine. By the time Thomas had been climbing the familiar hill to his house, he had convinced himself of the worst.

Only to throw the door open and see his stepmother standing at the hearth.

It shook him to see her. For one, it reminded him that she had not crossed his mind for days. For another, he had never seen her look so…vulnerable.

Like she had been grappling with her own fear for days.

Elsie's words had barely touched him; he had to see, to _know_.

It was not until he saw Daisy, and heard her voice, that he began to calm down.

"I had to know you were all right," he whispered, wiping his eyes on his cloak. "You were all I thought of, from the moment Lady Mary got the king's letter."

"Only me?" She asked, nodding across the room. "You already knew I had the fever. But I don't think it was for me that you got up in the middle of the night, to get here before dawn." She nudged him with her elbow. "Go sit by him. He would like to see you when he wakes up."

"He'd rather see you, and see you well," he argued, but she only grinned at him and laid back down.

Elsie pulled back the blanket. Edward and Richard chatted quietly behind her. "Thomas?" she asked. "Could you sit by your father until he wakes? I have to watch the flock."

"I can watch the sheep," Edward said. "I don't mind."

"Would you? That's very kind of you," she squeezed his arm. "Then I'll do the washing. If I don't, it will never get done."

She gathered up a huge bundle of blankets, cloths and tunics, and carried them outside. Richard sat down next to Andy to wake him.

Thomas wondered if he could simply walk out, pretending to join Edward or find some other errand, but he felt Daisy's eyes on him. He turned. His little sister raised her eyebrows, then snuggled with Remme.

 _Stuck._

He sat on the floor next to his father, who was breathing deeply.

Richard's voice was low, Andy's weak. Elsie came back inside. She talked with the other two, telling them that she had seen Jimmy, that he was getting stronger.

Nosi wandered in, and settled onto Thomas's lap. He was glad to have the company, even if the puppy couldn't talk to him.

Sometimes Charles muttered nonsensical things, and sometimes Thomas could understand words. He replaced the cloth on his father's head with a fresh one.

The sun was fully up, and morning light making its way through the window, when Charles woke. He blinked, then opened his eyes wide at the sight of the figure next to him.

His smile went straight to Thomas's heart.

 _He looks…happy. Overjoyed._

 _To see_ _me_ _._

"Hello there, lad," Charles said, slowing reaching out his hand. "I've been missing you." He squinted, as if to make sure Thomas was there. "Are you really home, or am I dreaming?"

Many different answers flew through Thomas's mind. _No, Father, you're not dreaming. I came here to see Daisy, to see that she was all right. I'm sorry you're ill._

Instead, something compelled him to take the older man's outstretched hand. He was glad to feel his strength.

It reminded him of when he was a child.

"I'm really here, Papa," he said softly, a smile appearing on his face. "I'm home."

* * *

 **A/N: Your reviews and reblogs are appreciated! Thank you! To the guest reviewers, a particular thank you. If you are so inclined, please create an account. I would love to be able to respond to your reviews, too! SOMEONE wants a Chelsie baby…you'll just have to keep reading to see what happens.**


	56. Across The River

**A/N: Well.**

 **If there was a chapter that would cause readers to say, "I can't continue with this. I'm done," this is it. I'll understand.**

 **It was never my intention to deceive anyone, or to pull the rug out from underneath anyone's feet. I'm sorry if that's what it feels like. But I also didn't want to make it obvious as to what would happen next. Months and months ago (** _ **last**_ **winter, actually, around March 2016) I knew this is where the story was going. Part of me thinks it took this long to get here because I so dreaded posting it.**

 **Writing this chapter was brutal. It wasn't difficult to write; it poured out like a faucet. But I've never cried, ugly-cried, before, during, and after writing something like this. Not ever.**

 **Everything that has happened in this story, and will happen, is marked by what happens here. And unfortunately, this is** _ **not**_ **the climax of the story. It's unfortunate because there is more angst to come.**

 **For those of you not on Tumblr, I've reblogged a quote from** _ **The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel**_ **: "Everything will be alright in the end so if it is not alright it is not the end."**

 **Hang on to that.**

 **This is not the end. Not even close. If you still want to stick with me after this, thank you. Leave a word or two of review, if you want to.**

 **TW for character death.**

* * *

The fever had sneaked up on him. He had thought he would have felt it sooner, some sign or symptom of it before it struck.

But that morning he had been watching the flock and had simply felt tired. Or so he thought.

Then Elsie had come up the hill right when he had shifted his weight, and suddenly he had felt faint.

He had tried to keep his mind on other things after his wife had insisted he go to bed. It was impossible. The war waging in his body was one he had fought before. He knew well enough the best thing to do was sleep.

His dreams were vivid, peopled with those from his past, sometimes saying things he found familiar; at other times, they made no sense.

Once he dreamed of his father, so long dead, but somehow he was alive and well. He stood on the shore of the sea, asking Charles to walk with him in the glittering sand.

" _It is peaceful to me," he said, smiling at his dumbstruck son. "I often walk here with your mother."_

" _Why here?" Charles asked. "You drowned in the sea."_

" _Yes, but it reminds me of my life before. When I lived in your house with your mother and grandfather. And you."_

" _I had never seen the sea when you died," Charles argued. "How could it remind you of me?"_

" _Look into the water."_

Charles had looked. But all he had seen was a confusing mess of people, voices, and sounds. The ringing of a hammer in a forge. The priestesses standing across from each other in the shrine at Midsummer, with a calf and two baskets between them. Elsie's face illumined with firelight and streaked with tears. Charles had called to her, once, then again, louder. She turned as if she did not hear him.

Or was she rejecting him?

Richard's voice had called him out of sleep. The healer gave him a horrible-tasting powder, mixed with water. Then he heard Elsie at his ear and felt her breath on the side of his face.

He was so relieved first to hear his beloved wife's voice and know that he had just been dreaming, that he almost missed what she said.

Daisy's fever had broken.

 _My little girl…thank the gods._

Hearing Elsie laugh and feeling her kiss did more good than the medicine.

* * *

Thomas blinked, staring off into space. The warmth of the midday sun seeped into the house. It made him drowsy.

"You need to sleep. Edward told me you hardly slept last night, and not very much during your travels."

He did not turn his head. "I'll be fine," he mumbled, fighting a yawn. Elsie put a hand on his shoulder.

"There's no shame in looking after yourself. You must. Charles wouldn't want you to get ill, especially not because of him."

The slumbering shepherd murmured something under his breath and snored on.

"I know," Thomas said, his voice cracking. "But I want to stay with him until his fever is gone…"

Papa's hand was still in his. He had gone back to sleep while Thomas told him news of the court.

"Of course you do," Elsie squeezed his shoulder. "And I love you for it, but please go to the meadow for Edward's sake, if not for mine. Once Daisy is stronger, she'll want to talk your ear off."

"I'm surprised she let you force her to rest more," he said, trying not to let her words affect him. He stood up reluctantly and set Papa's hand gently on his chest. Nosi curled further into Charles's side. "After you told her about Andy, I thought you would have to wrestle her down!"

"She knows she has to let herself heal. It took Alfred several days to get back on his feet. And he didn't have it as badly as she did." She sat down next to Charles.

Daisy grinned at Thomas sleepily before he went out. " _I_ need to sleep," he told her, ruffling her hair and straightening her shell necklace. "We'll talk later. I know Edward wants to see you, too."

"How is Papa?"

"Better," he lied. He kissed her on the cheek and went out. Remme got up and followed him to the meadow. Richard had gone back to Downton, saying he would be back before sunset.

Edward gave him a big hug, and handed him his cloak. "Sleep," he said. His blue eyes bored into Thomas. The corner of his lip turned up as he moved aside a tendril of hair that had flopped into his mate's eyes. "As much as you love defying everyone, I'm glad someone talked some sense into you."

As he watched the clouds drift above him, Thomas's heart ached.

 _She has never said she loved me before._

 _Doesn't she know it only makes things more difficult?_

Fatigue overcame his whirling mind, and he slept.

* * *

"Praise the gods," muttered Richard, holding Charles's wrist. "Your fever has definitely broken."

"Yes, I am aware of that," Charles said rather drily. He sat up with Elsie's help. "My tunic's stuck to me."

He was drenched all over. Elsie laughed, tears in her eyes. Sitting beside her, Daisy reached and hugged her father.

"We're so glad you're feeling better! Now, don't try to get up too fast-"

Despite himself, Thomas snorted in laughter. "You _would_ say that, after Elsie had to practically sit on you!"

"Listen to your mother," Charles smiled at both of them. "I will, too. She's held this place together while we've all been on our backs."

"And quite well, all things considering," Richard held open his cloth bag, setting the skin of the medicine inside it.

Edward moved aside the hanging blanket. "Can we look in for a moment?" He shuffled to the side, holding Andy up. The young apprentice was pale, but he smiled wildly.

"Master, it's good to see you looking more like yourself."

"And you," Charles sighed. He was still tired, but he felt in his bones that he was going to be all right.

Alfred and Jimmy crowded behind Edward and Andy, blocking the afternoon sun coming in the front door. Charles nodded at them. "Hello, lads. It looks like everyone's here!" He felt his heart light up at the sight of all of them, all the more when Nosi and Remme started barking.

"Not everyone," Thomas held out his hands to help Daisy up. "Sybil is still at the palace with Lady Mary and Master George. But I know if she could be here, she would."

"Or," a familiar voice said from the front of the room, "If the shepherd didn't have such enormous apprentices, I would be able to see him for myself."

Thomas, Daisy, and Edward spun around. Andy lost his balance and fell into Jimmy, who caught him. Richard's mouth dropped open.

Elsie stood up, keeping one hand on Charles's shoulder, wanting both to stay by his side and fly across the room.

Sybil grinned up at Alfred. "Are you _really_ that tall? I suppose you are." She moved past the lads and took Charles's hands in her own. She kissed them, leaning over him, her eyes brimming. "I hoped I would find you well."

"That means a great deal to me," he whispered, overcome with his own emotion.

"I hoped I would find _all_ of you well," she glanced around the room. "Lady Mary received a letter from Anna the day after Thomas and Edward left. She let me come home. I couldn't stay away from my family."

"My dear child," Elsie cried, gathering her into her arms, "It does me good to see you."

Her heart felt lighter than it had in days.

Sybil exchanged hugs with Daisy, Thomas, and Edward. Richard left, reminding them all of the need for rest and quiet.

"Rest we will have for sure," Charles murmured to Elsie after he had eaten and had laid back down, "But quiet? Not a chance."

They smiled at one another, both extremely happy their children were home.

Later, Elsie and Sybil sat outside by the well. The low chattering of Daisy, Thomas, Edward and Andy from inside the house was soothing, along with the other sounds of the evening.

Elsie's head rested on Sybil's shoulder. "So you have not seen Tom?"

"No, not since before the fever. I am not that surprised. But I do want to see him, and to talk with him about all of this."

Andy laughed loudly, and Elsie went to the door to remind those inside that Charles was sleeping. They quieted.

Sybil watched the sunset, her arms wrapped around her knees.

Her mother joined her again. "Are you certain they will be all right?" She bit her lip. If anyone would know for sure, it was Tom. But her daughter had similar knowledge.

Sighing, Sybil ran a hand through her hair. "I _think_ so," she said finally. She turned to Elsie, her face grim. "I would be certain if I was in divine form. I know it is still dangerous for them. They are mortals, after all. I'm sorry."

Elsie's heart sank. "You speak the truth. You always have." She smiled a little. "You being here lifts my burdens."

"If I could have gotten here sooner, I would have," her daughter said. "I did not dare take divine form just to travel. Oh," she brightened, "One thing I _do_ know for certain is that Thomas and Edward are safe. Yes, really," she raised her eyebrows at Elsie's expression. "They do not have the mark on them. For whatever reason, your uncle does not want them now."

Elsie let out a long breath. "That's a great relief. I only wish I could tell Charles. He's worried about them, after they have traveled so far, and been around who knows how many people with the fever." She shook her head. "Your husband told me long ago that he will never understand Hades. There must be some rhyme or reason as to when and why he calls the mortals, but it is not for anyone else to know."

"I think what bothers you most is that there are mysteries hidden from you," Sybil put an arm around her, kissing her cheek. "In that, you and Thomas are very much alike."

Laughing, Elsie covered her mouth. "True. He does not much like things that he cannot understand. Like the gods."

"He once shut himself off from love, for that same reason. Even from his family. You've helped him change, without him knowing it."

"Edward has been a great help to me there. That is why I guided him to Robert's court," Elsie said softly. "Thomas needed him, more than he knew."

Sybil squeezed her hand. "Thomas needing Edward is another reminder of you."

"The difference being, no one sent Charles to me," Elsie traced her finger through the grass. "He was a complete surprise to me when I came here."

Inside the house, Edward built up the fire. Thomas came outside.

"Is everything all right?" Elsie asked.

"Yes. Andy's gone to sleep, and Daisy wants to talk to you before she goes to sleep," he said to Sybil. "Ivy's coming tomorrow, with Master Richard and the priestess Isobel, but she said she didn't want to wait to talk to her. She said it was something only for a _sister's_ ears." He gave an exaggerated frown. "I always knew she would like you best!"

"You'll always be her favorite. No matter what she says," Sybil laughed and went inside, leaving him and Elsie standing next to each other.

Thomas turned slightly, looking towards the road. He could hear the stream chattering by. "Why did you say it?" he asked, breaking the quiet. He was glad it was too dark to see clearly. "There was no need for it."

"There was every need for it," her soft lilt reached his ears. "There is always a need for us to know that we are loved." She moved past him, towards the house.

"Did you mean it?" The words spilled out before he could stop himself. He cursed inwardly, feeling like a child. He could make out the outline of her hair, the slope of her shoulders.

"When I say I love someone, I always mean it, Thomas."

She kissed him on the cheek and went inside.

* * *

The sun shone high in the late morning, and a gentle breeze ruffled the tall grass in the meadow. Elsie stood unseeing at the flock. She sighed, then leaned her head against the crook.

Her eyes itched. After nursing the others through the fever, as well as watching the sheep whenever it was needed, the long days and nights had taken their toll. Even after she had been able to get some rest. She was exceedingly grateful for the help from Thomas, Edward, and Sybil, but she did not want to rely on them fully. They would return to the palace in a few days.

Freya got up beside Elsie.

"What is it?" The goddess asked the dog, who trotted several steps away, out of the shade of the ash tree. The sheep nearby were quiet. "Do you see something?"

She looked the other way, feeling the breeze pick up slightly. White daisies danced near the brow of the hill.

The air shimmered on her other side. In the blink of an eye, a figure appeared out of nothing. Tom stomped his foot slightly on the ground, gold dust shining in the air. His white tunic was almost too bright to look at directly. Elsie broke into a wide smile.

"I did not expect to see you today! Does Sybil know you're here?"

"No," he crossed his arms, his eyes distant. "Not yet, but she will soon."

"Freya knew you were here before I did," Elsie smiled at the dog, who wandered over to Tom. He glanced down at her.

"Even if she were an ordinary animal, she would sense my presence," he said. "They know things that humans don't."

Though his appearance was the same as always, Elsie could feel something was wrong. There was none of his usual cheerfulness, no merriment in his voice.

"Tom…" she took a step towards him, fear squeezing her heart. Her breath failed her.

He folded his hands behind his back. "It's Daisy."

"No," the word burst out of her mouth, her eyes widening, her mouth dropping open in horror. "No, no, no, _no_ , Tom!" She reached out and put her hand on his arm, turning him to look at her. "No! _Please_ tell me you are joking! No! _Please!_ "

 _She was no different than yesterday…_

His eyes held only sadness. "I would never joke about this."

" _Nooooo!_ " She howled. Her knees gave out beneath her and she clutched the crook, bent over. For a moment, her heart seemed to stop and she gasped for breath. " _No,_ " she breathed, tears filling her eyes. Losing her grip on the crook, it dropped to the ground, and she tumbled with it. She staggered to her knees and grabbed the bottom of his tunic. "No, _please_ don't do this," she begged. She had never felt so desperate. "I'll do _any_ thing-"

He lifted her to her feet and half-dragged her to the ash tree, where she clutched at it in an effort to regain her balance. "I know you would," he said softly, "But there's nothing to be done. Even if you returned to divine form this instant and appealed to the mercy of Hades, you know he would change nothing. _He's_ the one who decides the mortals' fates, not me. I'm just the Messenger-"

"Is-is this _my_ fault?" she sobbed, tears pouring down her face. "Is this a punishment meant for me, because I'm here-" She could not finish, breaking down, her hands scratched by the bark.

 _Because I love them?_

 _Because I defied him?_

"No," he said emphatically, knowing her thoughts, "this is not _your_ fault, it is no one's fault! Had you never helped Phyllis or taken mortal form, I would still be here now."

"Tom," she gasped, a last plea in her mind, "she's just a _child_ , barely a girl, she has her life to live and a family who loves her-"

 _I love her. Like she's my own daughter._

For an instant, the solemn expression on Tom's face slipped, and Elsie saw his anguish. Grief and suffering were there, and she saw through mortal eyes his divinity, the depths of the mourning he endured with every death. And there was more than a hint of anger in his eyes, too.

"Do you think," he growled through gritted teeth, "that I _want_ to do this? That I _want_ to be here today? _I_ know what that sweet girl means to her father, to her brother, to Sybil. To you," he squeezed her shoulder, but not harshly. His voice wobbled for an instant and he took a deep breath. "I know how much you love her. But I _have no choice_. This is her time to cross over, and I must guide her to the River."

She thought wildly of stopping him. Other gods had intervened when their favorite mortals had been on the brink of death. She had done so herself with Phyllis and Lily, during the last quarter-moon. But the woman and her child had been slipping towards death then. Not on the precipice.

This was different. To stop the Messenger, she would have to take divine form.

 _If you do it_ _ **now**_ _, Uncle will be furious you thwarted him. Father WILL find out._

 _He will see it all._

 _Everything._

 _And I, and Charles, and everyone we know both mortal and divine, will be at the mercy of His wrath._

She had never felt more torn in two.

 _I_ _ **would**_ _save her, if it did not mean the end of everyone else here! Father would destroy the kingdom, not just Downton!_

 _What choice do I have?_

From the look on Tom's face, he was thinking the same thing.

"I am so sorry, Elsie."

She felt a profound sense of defeat, of something lost that could not be regained.

 _This is what it feels like to be broken._

It was nothing like she had ever felt before. All of her hope faded.

"There is very little chance I will ever see her again," she whispered, tears dripping from her chin. "No chance to see her on the other side. You know how jealous Hades is of his realm – has he ever let the gods pass his gates? No!" She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, her chest still heaving. "Do I have time to see her? To say goodbye?"

"Yes," he said. "That is why I came to you first." He brushed off the tears on her face in pity, then walked several steps away from her into the bright sunlight of the meadow. "You have time. If you run."

He vanished from her sight.

Elsie ordered Freya to herd the sheep onto the hill. The dog obeyed instantly.

Gathering her long skirt into her hands, the goddess raced over the brow of the hill. As she ran, wispy clouds floated above her head. Their beauty pierced her heart.

 _Why is today such a beautiful day?_

* * *

A crowd of people sat outside the house.

Alfred, Jimmy and Andy sat with their backs to the well, silent. Jimmy's head was bowed, and Alfred kept looking in every direction, clenching and unclenching his fists, as if he was afraid to stop moving. Vyr sat between his feet. Andy cried openly next to them. Ve nuzzled the lad's knee, whimpering, but Andy could not be comforted.

Tears dripped off Ivy's chin, and she buried her face in Isobel's shoulder. The priestess met Elsie's eyes. The woman looked older than she had ever appeared before. Her eyes showed utter helplessness.

Elsie knew her own expression was the same.

Isobel had one arm wrapped around Ivy, and the other around Richard. The healer's face was buried in his hands.

"I-I tried," he whispered. "I _tried_ -" he broke down in tears, clutching his silver hair.

Elsie gasped for breath, her face red, her chest still heaving from her run. For a terrible moment, she thought she was too late.

Edward and Sybil sat nearest the door. It was shut.

"Is she-"

Sybil met her eyes. "Not yet." She blinked, and a long tear ran down the side of her face. She had an arm around Edward, who struggled to speak.

He shook his head, his eyes red-rimmed. "She's still here. But only just." Remme whined, frantically pacing back and forth next to him. Nosi trailed behind her. The puppy tried to lick her older sister to comfort her.

Sybil implored her mother silently.

 _I did not know. Not until a little while ago._

 _Go in._

 _They need you._

Elsie opened the door and went inside.

Edward closed the door behind her, then held the squirming Remme between his knees, his face bent into her fur, Sybil's hands on his shaking shoulders. Nosi laid down at the goddess's feet, whimpering.

A small fire burned in the hearth, and light came in through the window on the other side of the blanket which hung across the room. Charles's profile was in shadow. He held Daisy on his lap, her back against his chest. Thomas held his sister's other hand. His face was drained of color, and his lips were pressed together in a firm line as he stared unblinking at her.

The girl's face was grey.

Charles's eyes flicked up when Elsie dropped to her knees on the sheepskin on his right side.

"She said she was tired after she ate, then Thomas found her like this," he whispered. "With the fever again. I would have come to get you, but I didn't want to leave her. No one did." Every line on his face was visible.

He murmured something under his breath at Daisy's ear, and lifted her chin. There was a long silence. The girl stared at Elsie through half-lidded eyes, her hair damp against her face. Then she took a long rattling breath, and her chest moved. Her lips twitched as she tried to smile.

Elsie touched her face, then leaned her forehead against Daisy's. She was unable to control her tears. They dripped onto the girl's face.

"I love you," Elsie whispered, kissing her cheek. "I love you, darling girl…"

Charles's body shook as he wept, and Elsie put her arm around his neck. He took a gulp of air.

"Go, petal," he whispered, his lips brushing Daisy's hair. "Don't worry about us. The gods will watch over us, as they always do. It's all right," he lifted his head a little to glance at Thomas. "I… _we'll_ miss you…we will _always_ miss you…but remember we love you, _I_ love you, always, always-" He broke down, his body shaking.

Thomas shook his head almost imperceptibly, not willing to say anything. His chin wobbled. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to speak. Another rattling breath echoed in the silent room.

"I shouldn't hold you back," he said finally, his voice hoarse. "If…if you have to go, then…go. I can't stop it. I wish I could. But," his voice broke, "It's not _fair_! It should be _my_ last day, not yours!" He sobbed, leaning his head on Daisy's shoulder, which was propped against Charles. "Why…why…" He tried to compose himself, then gave up, still crying. He touched his forehead to hers gently. "Little sister, I love you."

Part of her, Elsie knew, still denied what was happening in front of her.

 _I have never_ watched _someone die._

 _Let alone someone I loved._

She knew she had to speak.

But she was not at all sure she could.

Leaning forward, she thought that mortals had more strength than the gods. _They face death all the time._

 _If they can do it, so can I._

 _I must._

"Daisy," she whispered through her tears that continued to fall, "You have been such a joy to me, since the day we first met. I…you're like my own child. Go," she sobbed. "No matter how far apart we are, I will never forget you."

For how long the four of them held each other, Elsie never knew.

Between the quiet crying of the other three, Daisy labored for breath, the moments between them growing longer.

Until a long moment passed when there was no sound at all.

Charles pressed his daughter's head against his chest, not wanting to, but knowing he had to look. He tilted her head back, and the sun shone on her white face from the window. The light was gone from her eyes.

She was dead.

A groan, a roar, from a place he didn't know existed inside him, erupted from his mouth.

Thomas shrieked, a high-pitched squeal. He flipped over and beat his fists. " _No, no, NO!_ " he howled. He slammed his head forward in agony on the floor. Lifting it, he prepared to do it again, but Elsie wrenched him backwards. He went limp in her arms as she held him, his whimpering sobs so pitiful they could make stone bleed.

"Daisy, _no…_ "

Low wailing echoed around the room. Elsie leaned forward, her head near Thomas's shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charles, still weeping, lay Daisy flat on the floor. He tenderly closed her eyes and straightened her thin arms and legs.

But he did not go to his little altar, or light the candles there.

When he pulled both Elsie and Thomas into his embrace, Elsie realized she was the one wailing.

* * *

 _She was exhausted. Even opening her eyes took all of her strength. The fever had burned it away._

 _Whether it was morning or late in the day, she did not know._

 _She had felt better – was it yesterday? But her body had betrayed her somehow._

 _She heard voices she recognized. Friends and neighbors. Someone brushed her hair back from her forehead, a tender gesture. Blinking, she struggled to fix her gaze on Andy. He tried to smile. But his eyes were full of tears._

 _ **The boy I love…**_

 _She wished she could comfort him._

 _If she wasn't so tired, she would._

 _When Edward crouched beside her, and she saw him weeping and heard his loving words, she finally understood._

 _ **I am dying.**_

 _Her heart ached when he went outside. She wished she had had the strength to tell him goodbye._

 _And that she loved him, too._

 _Sybil held her for a moment, whispered how glad she was to have a sister. Her presence calmed Daisy's heart. But when her sister handed her over to Papa, Daisy saw her turn her face away. She heard Sybil's quiet sobbing as she went outside._

 _Papa held her close, and Thomas whispered stories, memories of when they were small._

 _Had she the strength, some of them would have made her laugh. But she had to concentrate, to force air inside her weakened body. At times, she felt a sensation as though she were floating in mid-air._

 _Thomas picked up her cold hand between both of his and she gasped, feeling the floor beneath her, and Papa behind her. His steady heartbeat and his strong arms._

 _She knew it would not be long, but she didn't want to leave._

 _Not yet._

 _It comforted her that her family was with her, but – where was Mother? Where was Elsie?_

 _ **I can't go. Not yet. Not without seeing Mother.**_

 _ **I'll see Mum soon,**_ _she thought in wonder._ _ **I hope she understands.**_

 _She heard Papa whisper her name, lift her chin with his fingers._

 _She had never seen Mother cry like that. She was sorry to make her hurt so._

 _She didn't want_ _anyone_ _to hurt because of her._

 _Papa, Thomas, and Mother all told her she could go. In a way she was glad because she felt she was like a leaf on the stream, being swept away whether she wanted to or not._

 _Her eyes were open but she could see nothing. She knew they all were there, but she couldn't feel Papa anymore, or Thomas's hand, or Mother's._

 _It was very quiet._

 _She heard voices a long way off._

 _They were singing._

 _She had never heard anything so beautiful._

 _They grew louder._

 _Everything had been dark, so dark, but she was suddenly aware of light nearby – coming through the window?_

 _She blinked, and her eyes cleared._

 _Then they widened in astonishment._

 _A golden figure stood just beyond the sheepskin, near her bed. He had light brown hair and gentle blue eyes. His skin seemed to shine._

 _She got to her feet, still staring at him, only slightly wondering how she had the strength to stand._

" _Hello, Daisy."_

 _Her mouth dropped open._ _ **How does he know my name?**_

 _She took in his spotless tunic, his sandals._

 _His_ _winged_ _sandals._

" _You…you're a god. The Messenger!" she whispered. Why her knees didn't give out, she didn't know._

" _Yes," he smiled a little at her, nodding, confirming what she said. "But you can call me Tom."_

" _Tom? Like Thomas? I didn't know you had my brother's name."_

" _I don't," he said, looking amused. "I chose the name recently. But I only go by Tom, not Thomas. I wouldn't want you to be confused."_

 _His ease in her presence confused her enough. And his being there. "What-what are you_ _doing_ _here? In my house?"_

 _The smile left his face, and he surveyed her with a muted expression, his eyes soft. "I am here for you, Daisy." He gazed a little behind her and she turned around._

 _It was as though she were swimming in the lake beneath a bright sun. She could see everything, but the view was obscured. There were three figures on the floor in front of her. Thomas laid across Papa's legs. She heard the two of them sobbing. Her father groaning, her brother shrieking._

 _Outside the door, the dogs howled. She could hear Remme over all of them. She scuffled at the door. There was wailing from a number of people, loud sounds of grief._

 _The sounds ripped at her heart._

 _Mother's back was to her, one arm around Papa, the other on Thomas's leg. Her face was buried in Papa's shoulder. While Daisy watched, she lifted her head and screamed. Then she grabbed the top of her tunic and tore it._

 _Daisy had never seen any of them in such pain. She looked away._

 _Another figure was lying next to them on the floor. The face was shadowed, and she couldn't see who it was._

 _But she immediately recognized the necklace with the seashell around her neck._

" _I-I'm dead. Aren't I?" She whispered._

 _She gasped when the god – Tom – put his hand on her shoulder. "Yes, you are."_

 _Her chin wobbled._

" _I didn't_ _want_ _to die," she whispered, looking at him. "I didn't want to leave." The cries of her family, though they were so close, sounded as though they were a great distance away. "I never wanted to hurt them. Or hurt anyone."_

" _You haven't." He tightened his grip a little. "For them, it is the pain of being apart from you that hurts them, not you yourself. They love you very much."_

" _I know." She forced herself to look at her family again. "And I love them."_

 _They stood watching as Charles gently handed Thomas to Elsie. The young man leaned against her, his head on her shoulder, and she gently stroked his hair. Charles got up, still weeping, and picked up a little bag of coins in the corner of the room. He then went over to Daisy's body and laid a gold coin on her mouth. He kissed her head, saying a final farewell._

 _Daisy's eyes were still on the other two. Thomas was a little faded in her sight. Or was it that Mother glowed?_

 _She glanced at Tom, at the golden light that surrounded him, then back at Mother._

" _She looks like you," she said. "Brighter, or something. Or maybe I'm not seeing them properly. Thomas and Papa look pale next to Mother."_

" _Now you see them as they truly are," the Messenger explained. "You only saw with mortal eyes before."_

 _Even in her grief, Mother looked radiant. Her skin shone. There was a life about her that Daisy could_ _see_ _. It pulsed within her, an inner light. Next to her, the feeble heartbeats of Papa and Thomas were barely heard._

 _And she knew._

 _She_ _ **knew**_ _._

" _She is a goddess," she gasped, a hand at her mouth. "A_ _goddess_ _! Like you! Who_ _is_ _she?" Before Tom could answer, she studied the figure before her. Even in the midst of her terrible grief, her stepmother was beauty incarnate, absolute perfection._

 _It was like seeing her for the first time._

" _Is she Eala?"_

" _Yes," he replied. "Your second mother, your father's wife, is the Goddess of Love. Hidden in mortal form."_

 _A thousand questions flew through Daisy's mind._

" _I think I always knew," she murmured in awe, memories more clear to her than they had ever been. The shepherdess who didn't know how to bake bread. Who threw her crook an impossible distance away, after she had argued with Thomas. The one who saved Phyllis and baby Lily. "Not that she was Eala, maybe, but that she was more than just a woman."_

" _You saw glimpses," Tom patted her arm before grasping his staff in his hand. Daisy blinked several times. She was sure it had not been there a moment before. "Not everyone can even see that much. When the gods disguise themselves, only a few mortals can perceive them."_

" _Why is she crying so much?" she asked, seeing Papa sit down next to her and take her in his arms again. The door opened and Edward came in. He immediately embraced Thomas, holding his mate as he sobbed._

 _The goddess seemed to be just as stricken by grief as the others. "I suppose she feels for Papa and Thomas. She feels sorry for them."_

" _She also weeps for you, Daisy," Tom wrapped his cloak about his shoulders. "You mean a great deal to her. She loves you like you're her own daughter."_

" _Me?" The girl looked at him in disbelief, then back at her stepmother. "A daughter to her? B-but she-she's a_ _ **goddess**_ _! I'm nobody special!"_

 _Tom touched her cheek gently. "You're special to her. She loves you."_

 _She was overwhelmed by the truth of what he said._ _ **She loves me. ME.**_

 _He glanced at the others. "It's time, Daisy. Your father's given you your coin, and the ferryman is waiting." He held out his hand for her to take._

 _She couldn't help looking back one more time. "Will they be all right?" she asked, her voice shaky. She wished she could stay at least until they all stopped crying._

 _And she was afraid she would forget what they looked like after she left._

" _They will," Tom reassured her. "I'll keep a watch on them. All of your family, and your friends. And Elsie – yes, I call her that," he grinned at her surprised expression. "She will take good care of your papa and Thomas." He reached his hand closer to her, brushing her arm. "You cannot stay here. Don't worry," his voice grew soft. "When you were mortal, it was easy to forget. But you will never forget them, not the mortals. I promise."_

" _What about – her?" She asked. It was strange seeing the goddess and thinking of her as her mother. "Will I forget her?"_

" _As your mother, yes," he said sadly. "But you will remember her love for you, I promise. And she will never, never forget about you."_

 _She met his eyes and took his hand. He led her in the other direction. Where the wall of the house was, a heavy mist and fog existed. Keeping her hand clasped in the Messenger's firm grip, Daisy went with him._

* * *

 _She could not see much in the fog. Shadows drifted nearby, and she thought she felt others brush by her several times._

 _She was very glad Tom seemed to know where they were going._

 _A thought came to her after they had been walking for a while._

" _Mother – the goddess," she said, feeling awkward thinking of her as such, "She has a daughter. That's what the priestesses told us."_

" _She does," Tom smiled, a real one that Daisy could see even through the mist. "The loveliest, most warm-hearted goddess in the divine halls."_

" _Harmony, or no – Sybil!" she cried in sudden wonder. "_ _She's_ _a goddess, too!"_

 _The Messenger laughed. "I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out." He squeezed her hand. "Sybil and Elsie are very close, and she wanted to be near her mother while she was with all of you mortals. She was very glad to meet you. And Charles, and Thomas. She will look after them as well."_

" _You said you would watch over them, too," Daisy said. She was delighted by the revelations. Everything was clearer to her. "Did you say that because you're the Messenger, or because you're Sybil's husband?"_

" _Both," he confessed. "I watch everyone, mortals and the divine alike. But your father and brother, not to mention Elsie, are very dear to me. They're my family now, too."_

 _She had not thought of that._

" _Does Papa know?" She asked. "About Mother?"_

 _Tom looked behind them, peering through the mist. "Yes," he whispered finally, as if he was afraid someone would hear them. "He and the priestesses are the only mortals who know. You and your brother were not told. It was to protect you."_

 _Daisy nodded, understanding. There was so much she understood now that she never did before._

 _The sound of voices singing had not gone away. They had sometimes sounded more distant, then sometimes closer._

 _Over the melody that continued in an endless song, she heard the sound of water._

 _The mist cleared slightly in front of them. Daisy gulped._

 _Flames danced high on the riverbank. The water farther down was dark and the current strong. Mist or smoke, she couldn't tell which, hung over Styx, obscuring the other side. She thought she caught a glimpse beyond the flames on the far side of a tall stone wall with doors marking the entrance._

" _This is as far as I go," Tom squeezed Daisy's hand. "The ferryman will take you across."_

 _She looked in fear at the fire. "How do I get past that?"_

" _You walk through it," he said simply. "It won't hurt you, but all must pass here."_

 _A figure stood on the bank below them, next to a small boat floating on the rippling waves. Daisy licked her lips._

" _The stories all said the dead have to pay him," she said, still clinging to Tom's hand. "I don't have the coin."_

" _Don't you?" he asked. She looked down at her clenched right fist. When she opened it, she saw the coin Papa had placed on her mouth._

" _How-" she started to ask. Tom shook his head._

" _Some things you aren't meant to know."_

 _He let go of her hand and patted her on the back. "Just walk straight through the flames down the bank," he told her. "Hand the ferryman your coin, and he will take you across. Go through the fire to the door, and you're home."_

 _She glanced at the sight before her, and back at him. "Can't you go with me?"_

" _I'm sorry," he apologized. "I can't go any farther than here. Go on," he took her shoulders and turned her in the right direction. "You can do it." His voice was gentle. "I won't leave until you're across and by the doors."_

 _Taking a deep breath (though she knew she didn't need it, not really), Daisy stepped forward. The flames leaped up, almost as high as the top of her head as she approached. She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and stepped through._

 _She felt nothing, and opened her eyes again. The riverbank was below her with the dark water rushing by. She turned, and saw the wall of flames behind her. Tom nodded, and she smiled back at him._

 _The bearded ferryman said nothing. He only held out his hand. She dropped the coin into it, and watched him drop it into a little pouch that hung at his belt. He then took her hand and helped her into the boat. She faced forward while he steered them across the choppy water. When the bottom of the boat crunched on rocks below them, she let out a relieved sigh._

 _Climbing up the riverbank, she braced herself before walking through the fire again._

 _On the other side of it, she saw a bright sky, almost exactly like the spring morning she had left. (Was it spring? Was it still spring in Downton? How long had she been gone? She couldn't tell.)_

 _She heard birds singing on the other side of the wall. Flowers and vines of all kinds decorated it. Their sweet fragrance smelled familiar and brand new all at once. She approached the doors and touched them before remembering._

 _Tom still stood on the far side of the River Styx, visible through the mist and flames. He raised his hand and waved. Daisy waved back. She cupped her hands around her mouth._

" _I almost forgot! Can you please tell Sybil I love her?" She called. "I'm very glad she's my sister, too."_

" _I'll tell her. I promise!"_

" _Tom!" She called one more time. "I don't know if it's allowed, but could you ask her to give Thomas a hug from me? She-she's the only sister he's got now."_

 _She felt a rush of love for her older brother._

 _ **I hope he's not angry with the world forever.**_

" _She'll comfort him whenever he's sad. And Edward, and Elsie, and your papa too, for that matter," he promised. "Anyone who misses you!"_

" _Thank you for bringing me!" She waved once more. She felt a pang in her heart for him. He was someone she would have liked to know better._

" _You're very welcome!" She saw him smile at her before vanishing back into the mist._

 _She strode to the doors and put her hands on them. They were made of wood, and were heavy. She pushed on them, and walked inside._

* * *

 _The smell of wild roses reached her, of delicious grapes, of honey. She thought she smelled the salt of the sea as well._

 _Voices rang in a song that made her smile even as she felt she might cry._

 _It was waking from a dream into a day that never ended._

 _She had never felt more awake. Or more alive._

 _There were fields of ripened wheat, rippling in a warm breeze. She walked along a road, seeing a house on one side, then farther along, a house near a maple tree on the other. Several people waved as she walked by. They were friendly, but none of them looked familiar to her. She stopped to pick some daisies along the road._

 _She stood up rather guiltily, wondering if she should have picked them at all. But no one stopped her, so she continued on._

 _She was a little curious as to where she should go. She knew she wanted to find Mum, but didn't have the first idea how to find her._

 _A small boy played with his dog beneath a willow tree._

" _Excuse me," she said, approaching them. "I'm looking for my mum. Her name is Alice. Would you know where I can find her?" The boy looked up, his mouth stained by blackberries. She couldn't help but grin at him. He grinned back._

 _He had brown hair that looked rather wild, with a curl that clung stubbornly to his forehead. "You're Daisy, aren't you?"_

 _She thought she was finished being surprised until that moment. "Y-yes," she stammered. "How did_ _you_ _know?"_

" _You said your mum's name is Alice," he said, coming over to her and taking her hand without any hesitation. "You look a lot like her. Come on, it's not far."_

 _The dog trotted behind them as they walked through a field of corn. "What's your name?" Daisy asked the boy, who hummed, swinging their hands between them. He looked familiar, but she couldn't think why. She was sure she had never seen him when she was alive._

" _Timothy," he said, skipping a little. "You can call me Tim. Mum!" he shouted, letting go of Daisy's hand and racing towards a small house surrounded by sunflowers. "Look who's here!"_

 _A tall woman stood next to a speckled mare, brushing the horse's shining mane. Daisy stumbled at the sight of her._

 _ **That's not Mum.**_

" _This is Daisy," Tim dragged the woman nearer. Her hair was as wild as her son's, but it was black. "She's Auntie Alice's daughter."_

 _ **Aunt-**_

 _Tim's mum stood before her, and suddenly Daisy understood. "You're Papa's sister," she said in wonder, finally recognizing her own father's eyes looking back at her. "You're my Aunt Daisy."_

 _ **She died giving birth to my cousin…**_

 _The woman's broke into a joyful smile. "Oh, Daisy!" Her aunt hugged her, spinning her around in a circle. She laughed and cried at the same time. She kissed Daisy on the head, her eyes shining with love. "Oh, but you_ do _look like Alice. And also like my little brother."_

 _Daisy laughed at that. "I can't see Papa as being little at all!"_

 _Her aunt laughed with her. "Charles was a lot like Tim when he was small." Her hazel eyes grew soft. "He's changed a lot, but he's still that small boy inside." She put an arm around Daisy's shoulders. "Call me Aunt Dee, if you like. I'd love to talk with you for a long time, as would Tim, but I know you'd rather see your mum now. She lives just over there." She pointed across the field. Another house sat by a small pond. "Come by and see us whenever you want."_

" _I'll come visit soon, I promise," Daisy said, giving her another hug. Tim nearly knocked her over with his hug, giving her a toothy grin. She ruffled his hair._

 _The carved wooden eaves of the roof surprised her a little as she got closer to the house. It didn't look familiar to her at all. She stood for a moment, nervous, in front of the door._

 _Then she heard someone singing._

 _Tears filled her eyes._

 _ **I**_ **know** _ **that voice.**_

 _She almost laughed when the scent of fresh bread wafted through the window. Without knocking, she opened the door._

 _Alice looked up from kneading dough. The song trailed off her lips when she saw who it was._

 _Daisy could barely make out her face through her tears._

 _Her blue eyes, her wavy brown hair._

 _She knew her. She knew her mum._

 _ **I never**_ **really** _ **forgot her.**_

" _Hello Mum," she quavered, wiping her eyes. "I'm home."_

 _A moment later she was in her mother's arms. The two laughed, cried, then laughed again. Daisy was surprised to find she was almost as tall as her._

 _The woman before her was rosy, robust, in the bloom of health. Nothing like she had been in the last days of her life._

" _Welcome home, my sweet girl," whispered Alice. She rubbed her cheek against her daughter's. The two giggled as Daisy rubbed some of the flour off of her face. "Let's sit by the pond while we talk, shall we?"_

" _What about the bread?" Daisy asked as they went outside, hand in hand. "Won't it burn?"_

 _Alice's eyes twinkled. "Not here. Now," she said as they settled in soft grass, "Where do you want to start? I know most of what's happened with you since I left. I am so sorry you had to leave so soon," she said sadly, "But you likely have a lot of other stories to tell."_

" _How much do you know?" Daisy asked, curious._

" _I know you have good friends in Downton, Ivy and Anna among them. I know you're friends with your father's apprentices – especially Andy," her mother smiled. "I know you share an unbreakable bond with Thomas. I'm glad you love Edward as a brother. That's as it should be," she said. "I know you adore your papa, and I know how much he loves you. And I know you love his wife," she said, her voice low. "_ That _is as it should be as well. I hope she loved you half as much as I do."_

 _Daisy met her eyes. "She does," she said quietly. That much she was sure of. "It's not that I loved her more than you, truly I didn't, but…"_

" _She was there for you when I could not be," Alice said, laying her hand on Daisy's. She smiled at her daughter knowingly. "Do you think I wanted to leave when it was my time to go? No. I wanted to stay, stay with your father, your brother, and you for many more years. But it was not meant to be." She tucked a strand of hair over her ear. "I am glad Charles had the courage to love again. I wondered if he would be alone, as some kind of memorial to me."_

" _You_ _wanted_ _him to marry again?" Daisy asked, shocked. Her mother smiled, one of her dimples showing._

" _Well, if he had not, I'm sure I would have been happy to know he loved me so well as to never want another," she said. "But he is a man who feels deeply. And with me, he never got far below the surface. Oh, he loved me, I know," she watched several sparrows fly across the pond, "And I adored him. I will always love him. But there was something missing between us, something I could not give him." She paused, her eyes gentle. "He has that now, doesn't he?"_

 _There was no envy in her voice, only tenderness._

 _Daisy's mouth hung half open. "Yes," she murmured. She tried to remember what her stepmother looked like, but it was as though her face had faded into mist. She was beautiful, she knew that._

 _She could not even remember her name._

 _But she could remember love, wrapped around her like a blanket on a chilly day._

 _And she remembered that Papa and his wife loved each other. Theirs was an unbreakable bond._

 _Alice tilted her head. "Will you tell me about Charles?" she asked gently. "I do want to hear about Thomas and Edward, too."_

" _Well," Daisy cleared her throat. "That will take a long time." She couldn't help but smile back at her mum as the two shared identical grins, freckles on their faces._

" _We have all the time we want," Alice reminded her._

 _The breeze sounded like a low whisper, sweeping through the grass around them as they talked. It sounded like singing._


	57. The Quiet

_Death._

 _It is both an end, and a beginning, all at once._

 _When a mortal's life ends, their family and friends' lives continue on. Without the one they love._

 _But they are not forgotten._

 _Long ago when someone died, their family and friends prayed that their loved one would rest in Elysium, and not in the God of the Underworld's fire._

 _Hades guarded his realm alone. He was its sole ruler, and its only judge. The breach between the living and the dead remained absolute. Not even the gods crossed it._

 _The hardest part of grief for mourners, both in the past and now, has always been separation. No longer seeing or touching their loved ones. Not hearing their voices._

 _The quiet, after there has been noise, is wrenching._

 _It was no different when Daisy died._

 _But for Elsie, there was a double silence._

 _The moments after her girl's death were then the worst of her existence. No words came from Daisy's mouth; no whispered prayers were spoken from her heart._

 _Elsie had known the quiet of departed mortals before. But she had never known such a black void of nothing, the desperate yearning to hear a voice again._

 _With the knowledge that she never would._

 _Added to the gnawing silence, which seemed to grow greater as time wore on, was Thomas and Charles's terrible grief._

 _Elsie could feel their pain even more than they could. It mingled with her own._

 _Had it not been for Sybil's presence, she would have found it unbearable._

 _Her daughter and Edward came into the house only moments after Charles had laid a coin on Daisy's mouth. Edward took Thomas gently from Elsie's arms, sitting next to her to comfort his mate as best he could._

 _The goddess's grief choked her. She sat with her face against Charles's shoulder, feeling as well as hearing his shuddering sobs. Sybil knelt behind them, her arms around them both._

 _Through her tears, Elsie was aware of a difference in herself. While in mortal form, her divine sight and power was hidden. But now it felt drowned beneath the enormity of her sorrow. It was still there, but it had no effect on the moment._

 _Her divinity could not bring Daisy back._

 _The greatest gift She possessed, Love, now turned on her. Where could it go when she longed to give it, but because of death, she was blocked from doing so?_

 _It was not a gift that could be held back._

 _Her love for everyone around her increased._

 _Edward, who thought of Thomas before he thought of himself. Thomas, who loved his sister, and would have been willing to sacrifice himself so she could live. Sybil, who gave her and Charles peace, giving them the strength to comfort each other._

 _And Charles, who had endured so much death in his life, but whose heart remained unbroken. It was battered and sorely tried, but still it carried on._

 _The action of loving others saved Elsie from assuming divine form, even as she mourned._

 _She and Sybil prepared Daisy's body for presentation. Ivy, weeping silently, helped them._

 _Charles felt numb. As deep as his anguish was, though, he knew it could have been much deeper._

 _He sat outside the house comforting Thomas. His son clung to him when Edward left to take a message to the king._

 _There was a dark road ahead, but at least there was not a divide between him and Thomas anymore._

 _They were not alone. Sybil was there with them, and Elsie too._

 _Charles worried about his wife._

 _He worried he would not be able to comfort her. He vowed to do his best._

 _After all, they had each other. And their children._

 _Thomas cried himself to sleep as they sat beside the well. Tears flowed down Charles's cheeks hearing the low chanting of the women inside. The incessant whimpering from Remme, who laid beside Daisy. The whisper of the breeze in the tree-top beside the house._

 _His pain, he knew, was only beginning._

 _He missed his little girl. And he always would._

 _He would have given nearly anything to hear her again._

 _It was too quiet without her voice._


	58. The Funeral

**A/N: Many, many thanks for the kind words and reviews about the last couple of chapters. The next couple aren't going to be easy, either, but that is the nature of grief.**

 **One of the reviewers (thank you, kouw!) mentioned that it felt like a turning point. It took me a lot longer than I originally planned, but yes, we are definitely into the second part of the story now.**

 **I can't thank you all enough for your support. It is very much appreciated.**

* * *

Daniel poured more water into the basin just as Victor plunged the sword into it. Steam poured out.

"I'll go get more water," the boy said, swinging the bucket. The hidden god looked at him sharply. Daniel was stronger, no doubt. But he was still pale. Weak.

"That is enough for now," he grunted. "You've done enough for one day. Here, sit on that barrel. I'll show you how to mold the hilt so it's nice and round."

He tapped lightly on the metal. Daniel asked a few questions – which hammer to use, how hot the fire should be, and so on. Then he grew quiet.

Victor was concentrating on the delicate task when he heard him sniff. He looked up. Daniel hastily wiped at the tears on his cheeks.

"Sorry, Master Burns," he whispered. "I know I'm too old to cry. It won't be the same without Toby here. I just…miss him."

Setting down the hammer, Victor went and leaned against the barrel. "I do too, lad," he said. "No matter how old you are, there's nothing wrong with tears. They're part of being sad." He put a rough hand on the boy's shoulder, feeling like his heart was squeezed by an invisible hand.

 _At least I know Toby is home. He'll be fine._

 _It's the living that have to bear the burden of grief._

"Will Master John bring Mistress Anna here, d'you think?" Daniel asked after he had stopped crying. "He said she was going to help Mistress Jane move Phyllis and the baby back home."

"I hope so," Victor stretched his stiff legs. The thought of Anna lightened his heart. "I have not seen her in a long time."

The two continued talking as the afternoon wore on. Several people passed by as they worked, and a few stopped to chat. The worst of the fever was over, and the survivors were eager to visit their friends and share news.

It was late afternoon when John and Anna arrived at the forge. Anna barely gave Victor a chance to set down his hammer before giving him a hug. He was very grateful to see her. Her blue eyes, blond hair, and the gap in her teeth when she smiled at him was the same as before.

But her face crumpled and she shuddered against him, a gasping sob, and he was alarmed. John's eyes were red, and he struggled to smile.

"Who?" Victor whispered over her shoulder, his heart sinking. "Not-not Mistress Phyllis, or Master Joseph-"

"No," Anna cried. "I am _so_ happy to see you well, and Daniel too…Edward came and told us when we were at Joseph's house." She broke down again. "Daisy's dead," she whispered. "She died this morning."

* * *

Elsie sat with her back to the hearth. No fire burned in it, but she would scarcely have noticed if there was one blazing that threatened the whole house.

Her attention was fixed on the still figure in front of her.

A circle of white flowers surrounded Daisy's body on the table.

The door creaked open, and Sybil came in. She touched her mother's shoulder.

"It is almost time."

Blinking furiously, Elsie could not bring herself to nod. Her lips were pressed together in a line.

"Mother…you must let her go."

Elsie knew Daisy's spirit, her essence, had flown to Elysium mere moments after her death. But her body had continued to lie in the house for the last day and night, while friends and fellow mourners visited. They were gathering outside now to accompany the family to the burial.

Buried _…_ the thought alone threatened to tear her heart asunder once again.

 _Your girl is gone. She is gone._

 _She has passed into the realm of the dead, and she will not return._

 _You must bear your own grief. You must, if not for your own sake, then for Charles and Thomas's sake._

 _You must be strong for them._

She nodded, hearing the door open wide again. Thomas, Edward, and Charles entered. The lads stood at Daisy's feet. Their arms were around each other. Thomas was pale, but he leaned against his mate for support.

Sybil moved aside, and Elsie felt Charles hand brush aside a tendril of hair on her neck.

"The priestesses are here." He held out his hand.

Elsie closed her eyes and let out a long breath. She took his hand, glad of his support, and rose from her knees.

The lines on his face were etched deeper, and the sadness in his eyes betrayed the grief that coursed through him. She took his other hand and squeezed both of them, silently giving him reassurance. He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers for a moment.

 _Help me to endure this._

 _I cannot do it alone._

Elsie reached up and touched his face.

 _You are not alone._

 _I am here._

Sybil opened the door, letting in the priestesses, Joseph, Phyllis, Alfred, Andrew, and James. To Elsie's surprise, their neighbor Jacob followed the apprentices. He nodded at her and Charles.

Isobel gave Charles and Thomas incense to hold. She began the chanting, but it was Violet who spoke the sacred prayers.

When they were finished, Jacob and the apprentices gently lifted Daisy and carried her out the door where her coffin and the silent crowd waited. John and Anna, Richard, Ivy, a number of temple girls, and several neighbors were there.

Charles and Elsie walked behind the coffin in the road. They held hands, his right in her left. Sybil threaded her arm through her mother's right arm. Thomas shuffled along on Charles's left side. At times his shoulder brushed against his father's. When it happened he did not move away.

Though Edward held his left arm, he often felt his Papa put his hand lightly on his back. He thought it was a sign of comfort at first. But before they had even passed the stream at the bottom of the hill, he had a moment of clarity.

 _He does it to comfort_ _himself_ _, as much to comfort me._

 _To make sure I'm still here._

Once, the knowledge would have made him weep – or recoil in earlier days, before they had made their unspoken truce.

Walking behind Daisy's coffin, Thomas felt numb.

As they continued on the road to Downton, more and more people joined them. Some they knew well, others were acquaintances.

Soft sounds of sobbing followed behind the family. Charles felt as though his tears seeped out of him like the lake slowly flooding. There was an ache in his throat that would not ease.

It was customary for temple girls to wail and cry out as they followed the dead. Sometimes rich families paid money for them to show excess grief, to display to the gods how much the deceased would be missed.

It meant more to Charles that the crowd behind them was quiet. The grief felt by everyone was genuine; any extra tears would have been an act.

People lined the side of the road as they entered the village. Jane and her son Freddie were there. Daniel stood with his grandmother, who was holding baby Lily. The older woman gave the infant to Phyllis, and then joined the procession. Daniel, his bright hair shining in the sun, gave Anna a hug and walked with her and John.

Elsie felt as though she were walking in a dream. The feet of the pallbearers kept on moving in front of her, slowly so as not to jostle the coffin.

Their gentleness added to her tears.

 _They loved her, too._

Alfred had to lean a little forward, as he was taller than the other lads. Elsie's heart ached for him. Word had come that his father had died.

 _So much death._

As muddled as her thoughts were, she was astonished by the number of people waiting for them. Sybil had said something to her the day before. About how much Daisy was loved.

"No one will say anything against her," she had murmured, keeping vigil over Daisy's body for a while with her mother. "Of course she was not perfect – _we_ know that," a rare smile had crossed her face, "But she had a gift of making friends of almost everyone she met. She still does. She will make many friends in Elysium, I am sure."

Elsie was startled from her thoughts by the pallbearers stopping. They had just reached the temple. Another crowd of people were waiting on the stairs.

Charles squeezed his wife's hand hard when he saw the king and queen. The couple approached them, Cora still pale, her arm through her husband's.

"We are so very sorry for your loss," Robert said quietly. "Everyone says she was the sweetest spirit here. May the gods bring you all peace." He nodded at Thomas, who nodded back.

"We want to join you in the procession, if we may," Cora looked directly at Elsie, then at Charles. "To honor your daughter."

"Yes, of course, milady," Elsie's voice wobbled. Charles was unable to speak.

The king and queen followed behind the family, walking with the rest of the crowd. Robert kept his eyes on Charles and Thomas. He was glad both had someone to support them in their grief.

 _Like I have had._

He kissed Cora's temple. His wife sniffed, wiping tears from her eyes. They both were remembering the son they had lost several years before. Tears burned in the king's eyes, seeing Isobel walking near Daisy's coffin.

 _One never forgets burying their child._

Nearly all of Downton followed the procession.

Victor waited in the shadow of an abandoned market stall until the last remaining people straggled past. He had not dared to leave the forge until long after Daniel had tried to persuade him to come with him, in fear of being seen by Eala.

Although, he thought to himself as he pulled his hood over his face, it was very unlikely she would notice him today.

Still, he was cautious. He followed the last of the mourners out of the village before slipping into the trees that bordered the hill behind the cemetery.

He sat hidden, listening to the chants and prayers.

 _Why her, Hades? Why Toby? Why do you take children away?_

* * *

Even after seeing his sister's body lying in the house, her death did not seem real. Following behind the coffin, Thomas could not help but imagine Daisy running across the hills and down the road, Remme at her heels.

Sybil had struggled to shut the dog into the pen along with the other dogs and the sheep. Remme had laid at Daisy's side all while the preparations had gone on, and had been desperate to remain beside her favorite human, even in death.

Thomas wondered if she was still howling behind their house.

He stumbled going up the hill into the cemetery. Edward gripped his arm.

"I'm here," he whispered. Thomas nodded, but it was not just Daisy's burial that affected him. He was sure his mate knew what else bothered him.

 _Mum, I've neglected you._

It was customary for the living to remember the dead by visiting their graves, and tending to them. Thomas visited his mother's grave almost every time he came to Downton, but he had not been there since the Harvest Festival the previous autumn.

To his surprise, Alice's grave was neat and clean, with bright spring flowers tended and planted around it. He thought Daisy might have done it – and the thought made a sob escape from his mouth. Everyone around him was gathering to hear the prayers, though, and he was not the only one in tears.

He only saw that Papa was crying halfway through the chanting, when he saw his broad shoulders shaking. Unaware that he did it, he reached over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Do you have an offering to make?" Isobel's voice was gentle. Thomas straightened up, wiping his eyes.

"Yes," he managed to say. It was the last thing he could do for his sister. He turned to Edward only to find his mate staring at him in horror through red-rimmed eyes.

"I-I forgot my knife-"

"I have one," Sybil handed Edward the small instrument. She pressed a hand on his back, encouraging him.

Edward took a deep breath and reached out, holding a tuft of Thomas's hair up. He cut the strands, then dropped them into the bowl Isobel held.

The priestess turned to Charles and asked him the same question. He murmured yes, then brought out his own knife. For a single moment, it felt to Thomas as though he had been yanked backwards in time to his mum's funeral. When his father cut his own lock of hair from his head himself.

But the man beside him was unable to do so again. His hands shook. He gasped, frustration rippling across his face, and dropped the knife.

Elsie scooped it up from the ground. "Here," she whispered, two of her fingers grazing Charles's chin. He bent forward a little so she could reach the crown of his head. She cut a lock of his hair. It joined Thomas's in the bowl.

The sight of the mostly black curls mingled with his own black hair caused another surge of grief to flood through Thomas.

 _Daisy had dark hair, too. Now there's only Papa and me._

The prayers continued after the offerings had been given. He found himself mouthing the ancient words, surprised that he had not forgotten them.

Even if he had long doubted whether or not they had any effect.

The farmer Tim and his family stood at the outer edge of the crowd. The voices of the priestesses were hard to hear. As the coffin was held up, then lowered into the ground, one of the little boys felt something soft and warm brush against his leg.

He looked down just in time to see Remme dart through the crowd, heading towards the grave.

* * *

Most of the crowd drifted away after the burial. Some stayed for the feast, including the king and queen. Elsie felt the burden of grief lift a little while friends and family shared stories. She was very glad to see Charles smile more than once, and that Thomas freely talked about Daisy.

But as the shadows descended during the afternoon, she felt the cold chill returning inside her. The emptiness, the finality of death.

She wept beside the mound of dirt covering her girl.

Sybil comforted her awhile, before going to hug Ivy. Charles spoke in a low voice nearby to Joseph.

 _How do I still have tears left to cry?_

She brushed at the wetness on her cheeks and chin, her vision blurry. Someone sat beside her and wrapped her arms around her.

"I know you do not think me inappropriate, comforting you," Isobel murmured. "I would never tell anyone who had just buried a child, least of all you, that you should be glad that she is free of pain." Her voice wobbled. "As much as I know and believe in the comfort of Elysium, there are many days I would give anything to see Matthew again. And I know you feel the same."

"I do," choked Elsie, resting her head on Isobel's shoulder. "You reminded me once that love must be shared. It cannot be locked away; it only withers. I have already put those words to good use," she whispered. "I only fear now that I will not be able to set aside my grief enough to help Charles and Thomas. I must be strong for them," her voice broke, "But it is hard to find my own strength these days."

"You will," Isobel reassured her. "Of all of us here, including your daughter, you possess a strength we cannot imagine. But Elsie," she moved aside a long hair from her friend's face, "Do not think you have to bear the burden of your grief alone. Let your husband help you. Your family is suffering, yes, but it will be easier for you all to bear it together if you share it. After Matthew died, I was reminded of that. Often," her voice almost had a wry tone.

It made Elsie smile through her tears. _I can imagine who reminded her._

Joseph said goodbye to Charles, and walked down to the road to join Phyllis. She was with Thomas and Edward. The wheelwright smiled a little at Thomas admiring his daughter. "Come and see her whenever you like," he told him. "Your father said the king's allowing you to stay here until Midsummer."

"If you ever need to talk, come and find me," Phyllis gave Thomas a hug.

From where he stood higher on the hill, Charles was glad to see their friends comforting his son. He turned and saw Isobel sitting next to his wife. The two were deep in conversation. Remme lay forlorn next to the grave.

 _I should have known she'd get out of the pen._

He did not mind that she had, though it meant he would have to fill in the hole she'd dug.

He slowly flexed his fingers and stared at his hands, feeling rather lost. Part of him wondered what had happened earlier with the knife, but he was too exhausted to think of the matter further. He rubbed his face. He had spoken to all of their close friends, and many neighbors and acquaintances, including the king.

It was Daisy's voice he wanted to hear the most. But that was impossible. He felt someone's eyes on him, and looked up.

Violet approached him slowly. He folded his hands, glad he had regained most of his composure from earlier. Not, he knew, that she would care if he was still crying. As stoic as she often was, she would never begrudge another's grief.

"Oh, Master Shepherd, we've seen some troubles, you and I," she reached out and put a strong hand on his arm. "Nothing worse than this."

"Nothing could be worse than this, milady." He had not called her that since she had become a widow.

They stood for a moment in the lengthening shadows of the trees, not speaking. She wiped the corner of her eye and sighed.

"Charles," she fixed him with a stare that he could not ignore. "Far be it from me to remind you who your wife is, but you must not think she will not need your help."

"I know," he said, glancing in Elsie's direction. "She has never endured this before. I will help her as best I can. But I wonder if I will be able to _really_ help her bear her grief. Some of it is the same as mine, and some of it is not. She has a greater loss than I do." He struggled to marshal his thoughts. "Grief is hard enough, and I can't seem to think straight about any of it."

 _Other than missing Daisy more with every passing moment._

"My dear man," Violet squeezed his arm. "There is no test on _earth_ greater than the one you've been put to. Despite my presence as a priestess of the Divine Lady, I do not speak much of the heart – since it is seldom helpful to do so. But I know, well enough, the pain when it is broken. Do not let your wife's grief, or yours, divide the two of you."

"I do not intend to," he said solemnly. She nodded.

"I know you will do your best. You love her, and she loves you. If you ever need someone else's ear, I will listen. Especially," she raised her eyebrows, "since I am quite sure my cousin has said the same to Elsie."

Charles felt a real smile tug on the corner of his lips. "Thank you, milady-priestess, I mean," he stuttered. Violet's eyes were soft.

"You are the only person I would ever tell," she said. "But in the end, I care little what _you_ call me."

"The gods may call you by your given name," he told her. "But I doubt I ever will, even in Elysium."

She would forever be the young princess to him, come to the kingdom to marry the heir.

She smiled at him. "It is good to think that not everyone changes."

* * *

It rained that night. Elsie woke more than once, hearing the soft patter of drops and the distant thunder. The fresh scent the rain brought seemed to cleanse the air.

She was exhausted, but her mind would not sleep and her heart ached. She found some comfort in the warmth of Charles's arms. He shifted more than once, betraying his own inability to rest.

The morning was brighter. Elsie and Sybil rigorously swept out the house before the sun had fully risen. The house had to be cleansed, and neither goddess was inclined to ignore the morals' customs in regards to such things.

"Besides," Elsie said, scrubbing on her knees, "It helps to work hard, to give myself something to do."

"The more I see, the more I'm inclined to agree with my aunt Athena," Sybil mused as she panted for breath in the doorway. "We can learn from the mortals just as they learn from us."

They baked bread when they were finished. More than once they both shed tears.

"I will always think of Daisy whenever I do this from now on," Sybil said. She grinned. "It's rather fitting you and I bake bread together. She taught both of us how to do it. Though," she kissed her mother's cheek, " _I'm_ better at baking than you!"

"You are _not_ ," Elsie protested, feeling equal parts happy and sad. "Though I think it is fitting you and I bake together. It was something Alice taught Daisy, and now – now they are together," she said, a hitch in her voice. "As they should be. Mother and daughter."

A tiny sliver of her _was_ glad to think of that.

 _Alice has been parted from those she loves for a long time. And Daisy missed her, too._

They set the dough in the pans to bake, then Sybil went out to find Thomas and Edward. The two lads had gone for a walk early to look for Remme, taking Nosi with them. Remme had left Daisy's grave with the family, but she had run off into the woods near the shrine, and had not been seen since.

Elsie was washing tunics in the stream when she heard Charles's voice.

"What's wrong?" She asked at the look on his face.

"Nothing, really," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But you need to come with me."

Andy was standing next to the well, a bundle at his feet.

"Andy?" Elsie asked. Her heart sank a little at his closed expression, his blank eyes. "There's bread cooling in the house. It should be ready to eat. Would you like some?"

The apprentice shuffled his feet. "No thank you, Mistress," he said. "I-I'm leaving this morning."

She waited, though she was tempted to ask further questions. He had to say what he came to say.

"I spoke with the blacksmith yesterday," the lad began. "You and the Master know my brother-in-law is skilled with the hammer. I lived with him and my sister for a time before I came here. Since Master John only has one apprentice now, he said he'd be willing to take me on as long as I spoke with you both first, and that you let me go. When the court comes to Downton this summer, he'll need the help."

Charles and Elsie were quiet. Andy cleared his throat.

"I can't stay here," he muttered. "Once I thought I'd be a shepherd, or a farmer, but I can't walk the hills or the meadow without-"

He stopped. The couple before him needed no further words.

 _Without being reminded of Daisy._

The lad's pain was right on the surface, unhidden.

It was wrong of him to want to run from his grief, Elsie thought. It would only follow him. Glancing at Charles, she saw he felt the same. But they also knew they could not keep Andy there without his consent.

"We will miss you," Charles said gently. "But we wish you well."

Andy wiped his face with his arm. "Thank you." He looked relieved.

Elsie went into the house and sliced one loaf in half. Having wrapped it, she hurried outside again. "Take it, please," she insisted, giving it to Andy. He did. "And know you are always welcome here, whenever you wish to visit."

He nodded. "Thank you." He shook Charles's hand firmly, and blushed a little when Elsie kissed him on the cheek. But it was clear he wanted to leave as quickly as possible. He all but ran down the hill and onto the road.

Charles sighed. "I should have known he would want to leave," he murmured. "He's been an able shepherd, but he did not stay here for the sheep."

"Do you blame him for leaving?" Elsie asked. She felt some of the tension leave her shoulders when he held her hand. "He loved Daisy. He would have done anything to be near her – be it tilling the land, fishing in the sea, or serving at the king's palace."

Charles pulled her closer, until his chin rested on her head. "No, I don't blame him. But he will never find peace if he tries to run from his pain."

"He would not be the first to try," Elsie murmured, feeling his heartbeat beneath her ear. He stroked his fingers through her soft hair.

"Promise me," he whispered, "That you will not hide your pain from me. I know that I can't understand the depths of your grief, but let me comfort you when you need it. Please talk to me and let me listen. Like you always listen to me."

A tear rolled sideways across her face. "Oh Charles," she gulped, "I know she is safe, and nothing bad will ever touch her again, but I miss her. I _miss_ her," she leaned against him. "And it is so hard to think I will never hear her voice again, or see her smile. She always gave me such long hugs – she got that from you, you know," she sobbed.

"I know," he breathed, kissing the top of her head. He wept again but knew she needed to talk.

"I am so glad to have you, and Thomas, and Sybil and Edward," she went on, "But my heart, and my arms, feel so _empty_ …"

He held her as she poured out her grief. He was glad when she hugged him back.

"I should wash your tunic now," Elsie mumbled after she had cried for a long time. The cloth was wet over his chest. "I am sorry for carrying on so."

Charles held her hand over his heart. "Never say that," he said. "You needed it. And before you say you need to be strong for me – well, you are," he gave her a watery smile. "Just by being here with me." His chin wobbled. "I miss her too. My little girl…in the last year I saw her grow so much it was hard sometimes to remember how tiny she was when she was born. She c-could fit in both my hands-" he held them out together, his palms up. They trembled slightly.

Elsie put her hands beneath his, supporting him. "Tell me about that night."

He helped her spread the wet clothing out to dry, all the while telling stories of Daisy's earliest days. Sometimes he cried. Sometimes he laughed.

Sometimes they both did.

Their shared burden was eased while they talked.

Above them, in the trees by the stream, the sparrows chattered and sang to each other.


	59. Changes

**A/N: I'm not really satisfied with this next bit. I find writing angst difficult (shocking, I know), but it seems completely unrealistic (don't laugh, mythology fic, I KNOW) that everyone would get over Daisy in a week or so. Grief has lots of ups and downs, and people in mourning are apt to do and say things they don't mean.**

 **I thought a longer look at Sybil was overdue as well. Her POV isn't seen often here, but she is dealing with her own sadness too.**

 **Also…I apologize for further grief in this chapter. Parts of this story have been planned out for literally months, and I'm just getting to them now. There is a plan for everyone in this story.**

 **I think I know why it's taking me so long to write it…:/**

* * *

Robert and Cora left Downton two days after Daisy's funeral, to return to the palace. They would return nearer to Midsummer with the rest of the court.

Thomas stayed behind with the king's permission. Edward and Sybil stayed also, though they would leave after the waning crescent moon had appeared.

"We would stay here until Midsummer if we could, like Thomas," Sybil said to Charles the evening after the king and queen had left. He sat on the hillside watching the flock. The stars were appearing in the dark blue sky above them. "But Lady Mary wants me back before then. And Edward will be needed to help with all the preparations to move the court to the hall." She gave her stepfather a gentle smile. "We're all glad that we will be nearby during the summer. Even Thomas."

Charles reached over and put his hand over hers. "It is a great comfort to me, and to your mother," he said low. "Which you know better than I do."

Sybil squeezed his hand. "I hope she apologized to you."

He nodded, picking his crook up from the ground and setting it upright. He leaned his head against it. "She did. I think she felt ashamed that she took her anger out on me."

Though he and Elsie had shared their grief together, both were drained and dealing with a welter of emotion between them. He had slept later than usual during the afternoon, and nothing he had done since he woke had been right in his wife's eyes. Everything irritated her. Even the way he ate his fish during the evening meal.

She had broken down in tears. Sybil and the lads had been quiet, and had left them alone shortly after.

Charles sighed. "She said she feels too much – too much grief, too much sadness, too much of everything. At other times she said she feels nothing, and that's the worst of it. She said when she's in those dark moods she is angry with everyone, even me, just for doing the usual things: milking the goats, stoking the fire…eating the evening meal. To her it feels like we're all forgetting Daisy. She knows it isn't true, but it is difficult not to think that way. " He glanced at his dark-haired stepdaughter. "You likely know all this already."

She let a little lamb crawl onto her lap, and nodded. "Yes, but I am glad my mother tells you these things. She needs to. And I'm glad that _you_ trust me enough to talk to me as well."

A lump formed in his throat. "Of course I do," he croaked, "even if you were just a common girl, the daughter of my wife, a shepherdess-" they smiled at each other, "-I would still talk to you. You are the sort of person who listens and is kind to everyone. No wonder Lady Mary wants you back!"

They talked for a little while longer about the guests coming to court in the summer. Foremost among them would be the king of Hexham and his family. His queen, formerly Lady Edith, had not been home since her marriage.

Some of Lady Mary's suitors during the autumn would be returning – though not all at the same time. Edward and Thomas had mentioned the worries among Robert's servants about being able to keep up with all the guests.

"The hall is not nearly as big as the palace," Sybil said, pulling her cloak further around her shoulders. "And not all of the servants will be coming here, of course. Not all came last summer. But the king of Carlisle will likely arrive while the court is still in Downton. The hall will be filled with people – we'll be lucky if some of us don't end up sleeping outside!"

"So the king of Carlisle really _is_ coming to Grantham?" Charles asked, raising his eyebrows. He was astonished. "Is it certain?"

Sybil covered her mouth with her hand. "You did not hear a single word about it from me," she said, her face pink. "Or from anyone else." She nodded slowly. "He will be traveling through Painswick and then will come here. The king told Lady Mary himself, not long before the fever struck. He considers it a great honor."

"It is," Charles muttered. From the time he was a boy, he had heard tales of the legendary wealth of Carlisle. That kingdom's rulers were often warlike. Their present one was said to be less so, which was comforting. Even if he was inclined to war, it was unlikely he would start one with Robert's kingdom. There were much bigger, and much richer, kingdoms and tribes to plunder.

 _To come all this way, though. Why?_

 _If he visits other kingdoms near ours, why not us, too?_

Getting to her feet, Sybil let the lamb trot away into the grass. "I didn't mean to say anything…the servants' bad habits of spreading gossip must be wearing off on me. I know you won't repeat what I said, though. _You_ , I know, are capable of keeping secrets."

Charles watched his stepdaughter look down the hill, a wistful smile on her face. He felt a small sense of pride that she trusted him.

 _She misses her husband, and feels the need to talk to someone she trusts who is not her mother._

Sybil glanced back toward the house and waved. "Thomas and Edward are back."

Remme had been spotted near Jacob's farm. Nosi, Thomas, and Edward had followed the dog's trail east of the meadow, and there was hope that she would be found before the day was done.

Charles turned just as Nosi reached him. She licked his hand. Thomas saw his father, and shook his head. Charles's shoulders slumped. "Still no luck. Where could she be hiding? Why doesn't she come home?"

As soon as he asked the question he knew the answer.

"The one she's looking for is no longer here," Sybil sighed. "But she does know _we_ care about her, too. I hope we find her, and make sure she's all right at least before Edward and I have to leave."

Charles stood up to give her a hug. "Me too. Good night."

"Good night, Papa," she kissed him on the cheek. Even though it was not the first time she had called him that, tears sprang to his eyes. "I miss her too," she whispered, sensing his emotion. She embraced him again, her pale blue eyes shining. "She's my sister, and I will always love her."

They comforted each other before she went back to the house and Charles sat down with Nosi. The sky held many stars, with slow clouds passing by.

In the second watch of the night, he heard Remme howling from the direction of the lake. He could not leave the flock, but he was glad to know she was near.

* * *

Fog lifted from the lake in the early dawn. Thomas squinted, trying to see further. Nosi trotted in front of him.

"Remme!" He called. His own voice sounded thin. He heard Edward call behind him.

Silence.

"I'll search along the edge, over by the trees," his mate yelled. His shape was barely visible in the fog.

"Right," Thomas answered. "We'll search around the other side. Maybe she left a trail near the water." A light rain had fallen during the night, and the ground was muddy.

He and Nosi had gone around the other side, and could hear the stream babbling on their right, the lake on their left, when Edward yelled. The sound was not much different than a howl.

" _Noooooo…"_

Nosi raced in front of Thomas and he followed, slipping a little on the wet ground. Edward was on his knees beneath a maple tree. He cradled Remme in his arms. Her eyes were closed, and her body was limp. Nosi whimpered frantically, trying to get a reaction from her sister.

Thomas's heart sank, not wanting to believe it.

" _No,_ " he groaned, stumbling over to them. "Is she-"

Nosi whimpered, nudging her sister's nose. Edward stroked Remme's dark fur.

"She's dead," he whispered.

Behind them, further up in the meadow, Freya howled. Thomas had to carry Nosi back to the house. The puppy cried all the way home.

* * *

They buried Remme next to Daisy. Never mind that the cemetery was supposed to be for people, and not for dogs.

Charles said it was where she should be. Next to her best friend.

Later, he wept in the meadow. Nosi's cries could be heard from the house. Thomas and Edward were trying in vain to comfort her.

Vyr, Alfred's puppy and sister to Nosi and Remme, had joined in the mournful chorus from the hill.

Freya was quiet once more, but she lay dejected next to Charles beneath the ash tree. It was left to Ve to watch the sheep.

"Poor Alfred," Elsie said as she and Sybil approached. "He and James are having no more luck than Thomas and Edward. The dogs will not be comforted, at least for now." She sat next to Charles and gently stroked Freya.

"We can hardly blame them," Charles said. He wiped his eyes on his cloak. "Sybil, I am so sorry. It was very kind of you to give Remme to Elsie…she was an excellent dog, a wonderful small friend." His throat grew tight.

Sybil exchanged a glance with her mother and sat down in front of Charles. "Thank you," she said softly. Her eyes were sad, but she shed no tears. "I will miss her very much. But Papa," she reached out and touched his arm. "There is something you should know."

"What is it?" He asked. Freya rested her head on Elsie's knee.

Sybil looked him straight in the eye. "Remme is not dead."

He sat staring at her, not comprehending her words. "W-what? What do you mean? She was cold and lifeless this morning. We all saw her!"

 _I touched her. Buried her._

"She appeared to be dead," Elsie explained. "But she is not, because she _cannot_ die. She is immortal."

Charles blinked, the grass in the meadow swaying in the breeze in front of him. "Remme…is immortal?"

 _A_ _ **dog**_ _?_

"She serves me well when I am at home. As does Freya," Sybil continued, scratching Freya's ears. "Mother and daughter both have been dear to me for a long time. They have passed between the mortal and divine realms many times. More often than any of the gods."

Charles's head was spinning.

"So if she is not dead…then why did she appear to be so?" Panic suddenly blazed through him. "I have to go and get her out of there-"

The thought of a living animal trying to claw her way out from beneath the dirt terrified him.

" _No,_ Papa," Sybil leaned over, putting a strong hand on his arm. "You cannot, because she is not there anymore. If we dug up her grave now, we would find nothing."

He knew she spoke the truth. She never lied. But it made no sense.

What was clear was that the two figures in front of him had known all of this, and were not surprised.

Clenching his jaw, he turned to Elsie.

"Were you ever going to tell me? About Remme? Or were you simply going to let me mourn her?"

Part of him whispered he was being unfair. _She's telling you now!_

But dealing with the loss of Remme so soon after Daisy had died pushed him into anger.

And past reason.

"Did you think it was funny this morning, while the lads and I cried? Did you think that if I was sad, that later you could comfort me and I'd want to take you to bed? It's been a long time for you-"

Elsie's head went back, and her eyes flashed. "No, of _course_ I didn't think it was funny! And how _dare_ you accuse me of seducing you, even though I could _if_ I wanted to, which right now I certainly do _not_ -"

They both stood up at the same time. Quick as a wink, Sybil put herself between them.

She was usually wont to let people (or the gods, for that matter) try to resolve things before she intervened.

But the emotions between her mother and Charles were too raw, and too complicated with the recent past, for either of them to have a peaceful conversation at the moment. Their grief was too deep.

She saw all of this in a flash.

" _Stop_ ," she hissed, putting one hand on Elsie's shoulder and the other on Charles's chest. "That was unjust," she told her stepfather. "As you well know. And _you_ needed to hold your temper, not lose it," she arched an eyebrow at her mother. "You know he's not really upset with you. If anything, he's upset with me. I should have told him about Remme before now. And Freya too."

Neither of her parents seemed impressed.

"So Freya is immortal, too? Is there anything more you wish to tell me?" Charles felt a fresh surge of anger. He glared at Sybil. As much as he knew she was a goddess, he did not like being lectured to by someone who considered herself his child. "Or are you going to let me talk to my wife without your meddling?"

"Sometimes my meddling is needed," she shot back calmly. "I'm not keeping you from talking to her, I'm just reminding you to be kind." She was not angry with him; she never was angry with anyone.

There were times where she had to assert herself. After all, even Peace had to be defended.

Elsie's face grew redder, like her hair. "This is not the time to chastise me," she whispered to Sybil, clenching her fists. "How could I let him say those things about me without defending myself? None of them are true!"

"And he _meant_ none of them. Answer his questions, and listen to what he has to say, without making this about your pride."

"My _pride_!? This had nothing to do with that! He won't admit that he was wrong, will he? Of course not!"

"Why should I be kind if she's only going to taunt me about her seductive ways?" Charles shouted.

Sybil closed her eyes.

 _Proud, stubborn, willful._

 _They will not listen to me, not now. And they will not hear each other._

"Go," she told her mother. " _Go_ ," she repeated. "If neither of you will listen, then you both need to stay apart until you are calm enough to talk _to_ each other, not shout _at_ each other."

"Fine," Elsie huffed. Her eyes were dark as she glowered at her husband, then her daughter. She stomped away, towards the sparse eastern meadows.

"I have nothing to say," Charles growled, crossing his arms. "To her, or to you."

Sybil sighed. "For now. I understand your anger." She ran a hand through her hair. "But to answer the questions you asked me, yes, Freya is immortal also. And no, there is nothing more I wish to tell you. At least until you have calmed down."

She walked slowly towards the stream. It seemed an age since she had once sat there before Midsummer the previous year, with Anna, Daisy, and Andy. She followed it up to its source by the rocks and dangled her feet into the cold spring, feeling all the turmoil between her mother and Charles.

 _When Daisy was here, she could keep them together almost better than_ _ **I**_ _can._

"It is not your fault they are angry," a quiet voice said. "They are both hurting, and find it easier to lash out at each other, and at you." Sybil leaned back, and felt her husband's arms around her.

"Oh Tom," she whispered, "Their grief has blinded them to how much they love each other. They will not even _listen_ to each other."

"They will," he kissed the top of her head, sitting behind her. "They will listen, and they will forgive each other. Now, love," he put his fingers beneath her chin, turning her head towards him, "Talk to me. You've been strong for everyone else, but you don't have to be so for me. Of course you miss Daisy."

Tears shimmered in her eyes, and her chin wobbled. "I do," she rested her hands on his chest. "If only I could see her one more time, and tell her I love her…"

"She knew you loved her. She told me to tell you that she loves you," he murmured into her hair. "She was so happy for you to be her sister."

He hugged her close as, for the first time since Daisy's death, Sybil gave in to her grief.

* * *

Elsie hurried out of the meadow almost at a run. She turned south a little, seeing the line of mountains near Merton in the distance. The tallest and nearest, a cone-shaped spire pointing to the sky, looked close enough to touch. The air was fresh and bright, and spring blossomed in the wild abandoned pastures around her.

Its beauty only riled her more.

 _Why can it not be raining now!? Or at least the sun be covered with clouds?_

It almost felt like everything was against her.

She walked until she began to feel warm, then she turned around. The wind had increased a little. With every step she took back to the meadow, her angry words echoed in her heart.

Guilt gnawed at her.

 _Why did I let my temper get the better of me? First with Charles, then with Sybil!_

 _She was only trying to keep the peace between us._

Sitting down in the shade of a large rock, she covered her face with her hands. Grief was nothing like what she had imagined it would be. To feel terrible sadness – yes. Missing Daisy felt natural. But these wild swings of temper, her anger followed by dark moods, were not what she had expected.

From what she had seen of her husband, he was experiencing the same things.

 _I cannot blame him for being angry, either._

 _Poor man. He misses his little girl, and then he got a shock about Remme._

 _He did not mean what he said to me._

She cried quietly, hoping she had not made him so angry that he would not listen to her.

* * *

Charles stared at the flock, only occasionally paying attention to the animals' movements. Freya got up after a time and left; whether to go comfort Vyr or Nosi, both of whom were still crying, he did not know.

"Well, boy," he looked at Ve, "It's only you and me. We don't need females, do we? They are impossible!"

Ve glanced up at him. He yawned, and turned back to the sheep.

"Oh, I see," the shepherd rolled his eyes. "Of course you will take _their_ side." He leaned on his crook.

He tried to hold onto his anger, but other thoughts kept getting in the way.

The way Elsie had flinched when he accused her bothered him. When he spat those horrible words at her, it was as if he had struck her in the face.

 _To say those things to the goddess! It's a wonder she or her daughter did not strike you down at once!_

 _You said those things to your wife. Your WIFE._

He shifted his feet, his head pounding.

 _Sybil was right. You were unkind._

 _To your wife and your daughter._

 _Did you_ _really_ _think Elsie thought it was funny when you buried Remme? No! She was just as upset as you were._

 _And to make it sound like she was only interested in getting you into bed…you know her better than that. She has never used you._

He rested his forehead on his clasped hands. His eyes and his heart burned.

When his watch was over, he hoped he could find Elsie, and talk to her.

If she would listen.

* * *

Freya was curled up next to Nosi in the open doorway of the house when Elsie returned. Edward sat next to them, whittling a long stick to use for fishing. Vyr had ceased her crying from across the hill as well. The only sound was the breeze in the grass and in the trees behind them, and the comforting song of the sparrows.

"Where is Thomas?" She asked. The two lads had been inseparable since they came home.

The curly-haired young man concentrated on his task. "He went for a walk." He looked up, meeting her eyes. "After Freya came and Nosi calmed down, he said he needed quiet."

They both knew where he had gone.

"Well," she said, her hands linked together, "If he is not back by the time Charles is finished with the watch, perhaps you should go find him."

 _If I did, I would probably only make a mess of things._

"I don't think he will be gone long," he said, "But yes, if he is not back by then, I'll find him."

Sybil came back to the house not long after, her eyes red but her face calm. Elsie quietly apologized to her daughter.

"You were right," she embraced her and kissed her forehead. "I am sorry I was angry with you."

"You're forgiven," Sybil said. "If you will make peace with your husband, I will be more at ease. I was told by someone who knows you well that you _will_ listen to him."

Elsie felt a lump in her throat. "Yes, I will," she whispered. "I am very glad you had someone to talk to, and to comfort you."

Thomas trudged up the hill in the mid-afternoon. He was quiet and withdrawn, but polite. Elsie marveled at his reaction to grief.

 _I would have thought HE would be the angry one, not Charles and I._

Edward had helped his mate more than she could describe. It made her feel more ashamed of how she had treated Charles, to see how the young man looked after Thomas.

"When you and Charles argue, it isn't just me who feels it," Sybil mused as they cleaned the fish Edward had caught. The two lads were sitting close to the road, far enough away so they could not hear their conversation. "You both are so balanced, that when you are not, it affects not only me but harmony everywhere."

It was an invisible rift she felt, like as if the sky was green and the leaves of the trees were blue.

"I know," Elsie set aside the knife. "I really cannot tell if I feel the need to ask his forgiveness because it's the right thing to do, or because I miss him and want him to know I am not angry with him," she bit her lip, "Or because I do not like it when we're not in agreement – I know _he_ doesn't like it, either!"

"All of the reasons are good ones," Sybil said. She glanced at her mother. "Not everything is out of balance with you. I see you've started aging yourself. It looks natural."

Elsie felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "What do you mean, 'aging myself'?"

Sybil cleaned her hands, then reached out and held up several strands of her mother's hair. "See? These are grey," she said. "Mixed in with the red and brown. It suits you; no one here will think it unusual. You've had a very hard time. Charles already has some grey hair – what?" She stopped at Elsie's expression.

"I did not change my hair," the goddess whispered. "Not deliberately."

Her daughter's eyes widened. "And the wrinkles on your face?"

Elsie leaned over a bowl of still water, which she had planned to use to clean her knife. Her reflection stared back. The shiny glint of grey hairs were visible under the sunshine. There were not many, but they were clearly there. And at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth were several tiny wrinkles.

Her appearance was no longer flawless.

 _How did this happen? I did not will it!_

She looked up at Sybil in horror. The younger goddess was thinking hard.

"Grandfather warned you before you left home, that your fate may become entwined with mortals if you stayed for a length of time," she said slowly. "This is a consequence of your time here. You will not leave here unchanged."

Elsie let out a long breath. It made perfect sense. Her divinity as ever was intact, no matter how hidden. It was simply her appearance that was changing.

Without her consent.

A small smile appeared on Sybil's lips. "Is your vanity reappearing, Mother?"

"Yes, maybe," she admitted. "Though," she began cleaning her knife, "I am not sure my appearance matters as _much_ as it used to with me."

"I wonder why," her daughter grinned. "Your husband adores you, no matter how you look." She glanced up the hill in the direction of the meadow. "He may be struggling with his grief now, but he has not forgotten how much he loves you."

Elsie nodded and went back to her task. She knew Sybil was right.

Part of her vanity was sore, knowing how her reputation as the greatest beauty in both the divine and mortal realms might no longer be true. A greater part of her heart did not mind.

 _As long as Charles thinks I am beautiful, I will be content._


	60. The Wanderer

**A/N: Hello. I needed a mental break from this story, and real life has demanded attention this last month. I hope to start updating this more regularly.**

 **In regards to the last chapter and dogs – yes, the dogs are immortal, except for Ve. He was Charles's dog before Elsie ever came to Downton. But Freya, Remme, and the puppies (Nosi, Vyr, Drini, and their brother, who is introduced in this chapter) are immortal.**

 **Lots of Thomas here, and more from him is coming in the next chapters.**

 **To the guest reviewer who made me laugh, Carlisle hasn't entered the story! Why do you automatically assume he will, or that if he does, that his boots will be muddy? Or if he has any? :-D**

 **Please review or comment if you have time. This behemoth is well entrenched in my mind, but I do love to know what you all think. Cheers! Happy Spring!**

* * *

When James came to watch the flock, Charles was reluctant to leave the meadow.

 _What if she's still angry with me? What if she will not even listen?_

 _I can hardly blame her if she does._

He berated himself all the way back to the house.

Sybil, Thomas and Edward sat at the foot of the hill by the road. Elsie stood with her back against the well, her arms crossed. Her eyes were far away.

Charles cleared his throat. She turned at the sound of his voice.

They both spoke at once.

"I should never have accused you-"

"I lost my temper-

Stopping, they stared at each other, sensing the ground between them. Charles straightened his shoulders.

"I'm sorry."

She stood unmoving, then shook her head. "I'm sorry, too." The corners of her lips turned up. "Come here," she whispered.

He walked forward gratefully into her arms.

"I forgive you," she murmured against his tunic. "It was a lot to take in at once. I should have told you sooner about Remme. Who she is."

"There was no need for you to do so," he rubbed her back. "Neither of us knew that we'd lose her or Daisy."

They sat beside the well, their hands intertwined. A breeze blew gently through the tree-top, rustling the new leaves.

"I never thought grief would be this hard," Elsie said. "I thought I would be weeping a lot more. Not feeling as though my senses had been dulled, or getting angry over silly things." She smiled a little as Charles traced his thumb over her palm. "You're always so neat when you eat your fish, setting the bones aside. Most wives would prefer such cleanliness, rather than having husbands who spit them out onto the floor!"

"I was taught never to waste food," he ran his thumb over each of her fingers. He hesitated, then brushed his lips against her temple. He smiled when she sighed. "Grief is difficult enough, without burdening yourself further as to _how_ you should feel. Your anger is part of that."

"It should not be directed toward you," she laced her fingers through his. "I am not angry with _you_ , but just…her being gone. Not seeing her. I miss hearing her voice the most," she leaned against him. "Laughing with the lads, chattering with Sybil and Ivy. I loved hearing you and her talking together." She stopped when he wiped his eyes. "Oh, I am sorry – I didn't want to make you cry."

He cleared his throat. "You didn't. I miss her, too." He pushed aside the curls on his forehead. "It's strange…I see things that I know will make her laugh, and I want to tell her. A moth fluttered around Nosi yesterday," he smiled. "And the little scamp started chasing her tail trying to get at it! Daisy would have howled!"

They both laughed, then cried together. Charles pulled Elsie onto his lap. They held each other, sometimes talking; sometimes exchanging quiet kisses, wordless reminders of love.

While neither of them were ready to do more than kissing, simply touching each other made them feel better.

Sybil turned from her seat by the road. She smiled at the two of them, happy they had forgiven each other.

Charles hummed while Elsie traced an endless circle over his heart, her head resting on his shoulder. "What should we do about Thomas?" He muttered. She raised her head.

"To get him to speak to us?" She glanced down the hill, her eyes on the young man's back. "He will talk when he's ready. Honestly, I am surprised he has been so…calm. Are you?"

"A little," he admitted, watching Thomas. "He barely said a word to me after Alice died, but that was more out of anger than anything else. Now I don't know."

"That was when a rift opened up between the two of you," Elsie said.

She thought she knew why, but was curious as to what he thought.

Sighing, Charles ran his hand over his face. "We had been growing apart for a while before then. His mother's illness made him angry at the world. Not just at me. When she died, it seemed to turn his anger into stone." A small smile appeared on his lips. "I let my own anger overcome my reason earlier with you. My boy comes by it naturally, which is no surprise. We are more alike than he knows…except when it comes to the gods, of course. He fixated on them after his mum died. It was easier for him to be angry at _something_ , rather than deal with his grief. He used to try and argue with me, saying the gods didn't exist, or that they only cared for themselves."

"He was trying to make you angry. It upset him, I think, to see you being able to go on with life. As if you cared nothing for his mother. Which was not true."

"I know all that now. I should have talked to him more then, but I didn't like to upset him or Daisy. So I hardly spoke of Alice at all. That was wrong. I wish I knew what he was thinking _now_ ," Charles blew out a breath, frustrated. "I want to talk to him, or for him to talk to me, but he's been avoiding all of us except Edward. The last thing I want is for him to erupt, me to lose my temper, and everything that's changed between us this last season to be lost! And I don't want you caught in the middle, either," he pulled Elsie closer. He was glad of her touch. Her arm around his shoulder, her soft hand on his back.

"I want what you want. For you both to love each other like when he was small." She kissed him on the forehead, glad of her position on his lap that made it possible. "You and Thomas have come a very long way since then. I will not interfere between the two of you – unless I have to defend you, of course," her eyes twinkled as she tousled his hair.

He laughed a bit under his breath. "I doubt you will have to. But I am thankful that you're willing to fight on my behalf." He pressed his lips together, thinking. "He may talk to you before he talks to me."

"Do you think so?" Elsie was grateful for the better relationship between her and Thomas. But the loss of his sister, she thought, would make it more likely for him to talk to someone who shared more memories of Daisy than she did. Even if it meant talking to his father.

"It's likely. You have less chance of losing your temper with him if he tries to bait you." He gave her another kiss. The taste of his tongue was sweet, and it made her smile.

 _He does love the berries that ripen near the stream._

"I would not be so sure of that." Rubbing her nose against his, she slid her hands to either side of his face. "The men in this family can be charming when they want to be." She cocked an eyebrow. "But they both also try my patience at times. In their different ways."

"Hmmm," he murmured. "True. We do deserve some praise. We both recognize beauty when we see it. In our different ways, of course."

He could not resist kissing her again, despite knowing Thomas, Edward and Sybil were well within sight. His belly rumbled.

"Forever hungry," she gave a short laugh and pulled away faster than he liked. She gave him her hand so he could stand also. "Let's get you something to eat."

Charles stretched, reaching for his crook that leaned against the well. Elsie frowned as she picked up the full bucket of water. His eyebrows scrunched together at her expression.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

She looked up at him, her eyes widening a little. "You don't-" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "Oh, it's nothing really. Stupid. Come on," she gestured at the door.

"Tell me." He reached out and touched her shoulder, keeping her from turning away from him.

Pink flooded her face. "Haven't you noticed?"

"Noticed what?" He was bewildered. _What am I not seeing?_

"You talk of beauty," she ran a hand through her hair. "But it is clear you haven't noticed the grey strands appearing here-" she held out a few for him to see- "-or the wrinkles around my eyes and mouth."

He squinted at her in disbelief. "I _have_ noticed them. But do you really think that changes how I see you? Elsie," he put his thumb on her chin. "In my eyes, you are beautiful. Even if all of your hair was grey, and your face lined, and spots appeared on your skin, there is no one else I would ever look at. No one," he repeated.

Tears came to her eyes. "When you say that...I know you mean it."

She knew his heart, and she knew he meant what he said. And she wondered at his integrity.

 _As a mortal, how can he know the sublime perfection of the divine realm? No imperfections or flaws are seen there._

Yes, she had given him the gifts of truthfulness and honor along with love in his youth, but she had never expected to receive them _back_ from him. She gave gifts; she rarely received even a prayer of thankfulness in return.

As vain as she had once been, she had always been able to see beauty within others. Still, it was a struggle to set aside her pride in her own appearance, no matter what she had said to Sybil. There were few of their kind who saw beauty within, the way they did.

Mortals, in that sense, were very much like many of the gods. Judging by outward appearances rather than the heart.

Except Charles.

" _Hard work and diligence matter more than beauty,"_ he had told Violet before the fever raged, when he and Elsie had visited Downton. He and the priestess had been talking about how difficult it was to find good apprentices, and faithful girls to serve in the temple.

" _If only that were true_ ," Violet had muttered to Elsie. The goddess had laughed, though the statement reminded her of how much she hoped that people's views would eventually change.

"I am the one not deserving of you," Charles's voice brought her back to the moment. "What am I? Just a man, and not the handsomest one by any stretch. And getting older by the day. What have I ever done to have _your_ favor?"

It did not surprise him that her vanity was bruised. All the stories of Eala spoke not only of her beauty, but also her confidence. It felt strange to him that she would doubt herself.

 _Her appearance adapts well to age._

In some ways he found her even more beautiful.

"You accept me," she said, sure of herself once more. "As I am. And you thank me. That is all I ask of anyone. I do not want burned sacrifices or blood-stained altars like so many of the other gods demand," she lowered her voice even though they were alone. "I give Love to many people. To those who doubt my existence, as well as to those who believe. But the broken-hearted – they are the ones I long to reach. Oh yes," she smiled, "Love can heal even the most shattered hearts."

In some things she had never wavered. And she never would.

"I know," he said softly. "I have seen it before, in my own life."

She reached up and touched his face. "And now you are helping _me_ heal. And you are quite the handsomest man in my eyes. You'll never convince me any other way."

* * *

Edward and Sybil left to go back to the palace after the waning crescent moon had appeared. Even though he knew it would not be very long until he saw his mate again, Thomas missed him.

It was not bad being at home. Papa was kind, and he never pressed him to talk. Elsie too gave him a wide berth. Sometimes Thomas felt an urge, a need to express what was in his heart.

If only he could find the words.

Home was not the same.

Sometimes it almost felt as though Daisy would come running up the hill or across the meadow. Sometimes during the evening meal, he would turn his head and half-expect her to grin at him from the corner.

But she wasn't there, and he knew she never would be again.

It was easier to wander. Every day he left soon after the morning meal and did not return until near sunset.

Sometimes he walked east, through the wild meadows. More than once he had found himself near Jacob's farm. Once he had stopped, and without a word, helped the young man plant a crop in the field.

He wasn't even sure why he did it. Jacob thanked him, but Thomas was certain he had never said a word to Papa or the apprentices, since none of them asked him about it later.

More often, he found his way to Downton. Walking through the village meant he was around other people. But there was little obligation to converse with anyone for more than a few words. Sometimes he would go to Phyllis's house and sit for a while. She would offer him food or water, and would let him sit in silence until he felt the need to walk further.

Wherever he wandered, he always ended at the same place. The green hill north of Downton.

Sitting next to the graves of his mother and sister made him feel closer to them. Even though he knew they were in a place he couldn't reach.

He would draw a stick through the dirt. Or try to get a rabbit to come to his hand, like he used to when he was small. Or he would simply listen to the breeze rustle through the leaves in the woods at the top of the hill. Watch people, chariots, and animals pass by on the road.

He thought he'd be angry, like he had been when Mum had died. But instead he felt…empty. The pain and shock of losing Daisy was not a memory he would forget. But once the initial rawness of it had passed, nothing had replaced it.

What made the emptiness begin to fade was Lily.

He sat in the corner in Phyllis's house while she wove a new tunic. Since Master Bill had died, she had begun weaving. Daniel's grandmother had taken on some of the work as well.

A little snuffling came from the basket next to Thomas. He glanced down at the baby. She wriggled, her lips puckering, her arms flailing. She let out a little cry.

Then a louder one.

"Tommy," Phyllis said, not looking up, "Could you hold her? She'll be getting hungry soon, but I need to finish this side."

He hesitated a moment, then scooped Lily out of the basket. Standing up, his knees cracked. He held the baby so her head was just at his shoulder. He turned in a slow circle.

"See what your mummy is doing?" He asked. "Is she weaving a tunic?" He felt a little silly, talking in a higher voice, but he knew Phyllis wouldn't laugh at him. Lily's dark eyes were big, taking in the room. She made him smile.

It must be nice being a baby, he thought. Her life was simple. If her belly was full and her bottom was dry, she was happy. She liked being held. By her mum and her dad. By him.

The thought of Master Bill made him swallow hard.

It wasn't fair the old man had had so little time with his granddaughter before he'd gone to Hades. Or that Daniel missed his friend Toby.

It wasn't fair that Daisy would never laugh with Ivy again. Or take marriage vows with the man of her choice. Or hold any children of her own.

 _I won't either._

 _Once I'm gone, there will be no one in our family left._

The lump in his throat grew bigger. He shifted Lily in his arms, feeling tears coming.

When the baby leaned her head forward, clutching at his tunic, a sob came out of his mouth.

Phyllis heard him, and leapt up in an instant. She put an arm around him.

"Shhh…" She said it to comfort him rather than to quiet him. A glance at her daughter reassured her. Lily was absorbed by Thomas's tunic, unaware of his tears.

He cried, muttering under his breath, and kissed Lily's head. Broken words came out. "…why her…nothing…hates…won't ever for-for…should've been _me_ …"

The wheelwright's wife watched him anxiously for a while. She took Lily gently from his arms, and he let her. He put his hands up to his eyes; to stop his tears, or to keep her from seeing them, she wasn't sure.

"It is not your fault," she said, cuddling the baby. She thought she knew what burdened him. "There is nothing you did to cause Daisy's death. And there's nothing you could have done to stop it."

"I know," he mumbled. His usually pale face was blotchy, his eyes red.

"You must find a way to go on," she chose her words with care. "You mean a lot to your family, to Edward, to me, and to a lot of other people, and you'll continue to do so. Don't think your life matters less than Daisy's did."

He let out another sob, and covered his face again. His shoulders shook.

"Sorry," he whispered after he had gotten control of himself. "I don't know why I'm crying, really."

 _Again._

He thought he'd run out of tears days ago.

"You miss your sister. Of course you do," she soothed him, putting a hand on his arm. "Tears aren't anything to be ashamed of - Joseph cried early this morning. He misses his father."

Thomas cleared his throat, and ran a hand through his hair. "All the more reason for me not to break down in front of you. Not when you've got Joseph crying here, too."

A tiny smile appeared on her face. "I don't mind men with soft hearts. I am glad to see you," she handed him his cloak when he reached for it. "You know you're welcome to come here whenever you need someplace to go."

"Thank you," he managed a watery smile, and ran a finger across Lily's cheek. She was beginning to fuss once more. "I'm going to go see Anna. I haven't seen her since – since before Edward and Sybil left."

"She would like that," Phyllis raised her voice, bouncing Lily. "You might want to tell John you're going to visit. He's been worried about her, saying she doesn't get out of the house enough. I try to walk there every few days or so, but this rain has kept us in the village."

"I will." He gave the two of them one more smile and left the house.

* * *

John was sharpening the blade of a farmer's plow when Thomas reached the forge. He straightened up, and wiped his hands on a rag.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, his forehead crinkling. "Is something wrong with Charles?"

"No, no, he's fine. Everyone's fine," Thomas reassured the blacksmith. He'd forgotten that John was a worrier, and would think him coming to the forge would mean bad news. "I was just going to see Anna. I haven't seen her for a while. Phyllis told me you'd want to know."

John relaxed. "Thank you. She'll be happy to see you. Just be careful with Kap. He's _very_ protective of her. He wants to attack almost everyone except for Anna, me, Jane, and Freddie."

Behind him, Daniel and the stooped figure of Master Burns approached them. Thomas glanced at Andy, but his father's former apprentice ignored him, hammering away by the hot fire. Daniel gave John a water skin.

"Attack?" Thomas asked, his eyebrows raised. "The last time I saw him he licked my hand." The puppy, the only male from Freya's litter, was a lot like his sisters.

"Well, he probably smelled Nosi or Vyr on you," Daniel crossed his arms. "He knew you were a friend. He's a smart dog. They all are. Alfred told me about Vyr learning to guide the sheep. Kap _used_ to like me," he shook his head. "But he snarled at me when Anna came here yesterday, and he would've ripped Master Burns' leg off, if me and Andy hadn't kept him away-"

"I had to climb a tree to get away from him," growled the bearded man. He rubbed his sweaty face. "Dogs don't like me."

"Once he knows you better, I'm sure he'll be fine," John handed him the water skin after taking a drink. "He's not used to many people just yet. Sit down for a while, Joe, you've been working all morning. Andy! You too!" he called. Andy dropped the hammer and trudged over to them.

"Hello," Thomas said as nicely as he could. "Alfred and Jimmy asked after you. They hope you're doing well."

Andy's expression unsettled him. The lad had always been friendly. Happy. Of course he had been shocked when Daisy died.

But now he looked downright _mean_. His dark eyes flashed a little, and his lips seemed curled in a permanent frown. He did not answer Thomas. He only grunted in his direction, before sitting down next to Master Burns and Daniel.

"He's…struggling," John said under his breath. "I thought about talking to your father about him, but I don't want to worry him or Elsie. I'm sure he'll be all right eventually. He just needs time."

Nodding, Thomas agreed. "Yes. Thank you for the warning about Kap."

"Tell Anna I'll be home before sunset," John called after him. Thomas waved in reply.

* * *

It was a bright, though slightly chilly, day. The breeze was stronger as Thomas left the main road, following the path to John and Anna's house. He sniffed the clean air, glad of the rain.

 _It will be warmer tomorrow._

 _I sound like an old man._

He shook his head. Wondering what Edward would think, he felt his heart clench.

 _I'll write to him tonight._

Maybe he would have some insight regarding Andy. Or maybe Sybil would. It surprised Thomas, the lad's visceral anger. He thought that _he_ would have had that reaction to Daisy's death, and Andy would be the one crying all the time.

Grief was strange.

He had just reached the low stone wall, the simple stone house up the slope, when a blue-black dog came tearing out the door, snarling and barking. Thomas was so surprised he stumbled backwards. He nearly fell, but caught himself, then leaped on top of the wall just in time.

"Kap!" He yelled, panicking, as the dog jumped, his front paws on the wall. "Kap, it's me! Thomas!" He held out his hand, but not too close – Kap's teeth were bared, and all the hair on his back was standing up.

Anna rushed outside and grabbed the dog. "Shhh, shhh," she rubbed his back until he quieted a little. "My good boy, I know you're just looking out for me, but can't you see it's Thomas? Your sisters' friend? He won't hurt me. Shhh, good boy." She gave Kap another pat and he finally licked her hand and trotted off, as calm as you please. Thomas heaved a sigh of relief.

"John warned me, but I didn't believe him," he said, dropping to the ground. "What's gotten into him?"

Anna shrugged, flipping her braid over her shoulder. "Who knows? Hello, you," she hugged him, smiling. "It's wonderful to see you."

She sounded like she was going to cry. Thomas held onto the hug, not wanting to break it. Finally, she pulled back. Her eyes gleamed with tears but she still wore a smile. "How are you?"

 _All right_ , was what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. Anna gave him another hug.

"I was just reading a letter from Sybil," she rubbed his back. "She's worried about you. I've thought about going to see you, and Elsie, but Kap follows me everywhere, and, well…"

"I understand," he cleared his throat as they walked to the house, arm in arm. "Master Burns said he had to climb a tree to escape."

"Poor man," she shook her head. "He got the worst of it, I think. I really don't know _why_ Kap has suddenly got that way. He was always friendly before."

She offered Thomas a small cake with figs in it, and a little wine. He insisted on helping her spread wet tunics and a sheepskin outside. Phyllis had said John was worried about his wife, and seeing Anna, Thomas could see why. She had shadows under her eyes, and looked as though she had lost weight. Not that she had had a lot to lose before. He was glad to see that the sun had turned her pale cheeks pink.

After spreading out the clothing to dry, they both sat and ate the cake. That lightened Thomas's heart. Anna tore into her half, and was picking crumbs off her fingers before he was halfway through his.

"If you're that hungry, you can have the rest of mine," he teased. She blushed.

"I know it doesn't look like it, but I ate a lot this morning. I guess I was hungrier than I thought."

They sat in the doorway of her house, talking of mundane, everyday things. Kap laid down near the hearth inside, his eyes on his mistress and her guest.

Anna showed Thomas a letter she had received from Lady Mary.

"I know I can trust you to read it," she said. While he read it, she swiped the last part of his cake. He grinned, and she stuck out her tongue. "What? You said I could have the rest!"

"I did." He read the letter, and sighed. "It's not anything I didn't know. Or suspect," he corrected himself. "I knew she was worried about all the guests coming this summer, but I didn't know for sure how she felt about the king of Carlisle coming."

"Robert – the king, that is," Anna stopped herself. "John calls him that when we talk, so I've gotten used to referring to him by his name."

"He's become a good friend of yours too, I take it?" he laughed. "When the court comes here for Midsummer, I can see you walk up to him. 'Robert, old boy, so nice to see you-'"

"Silly beggar," she mock-scowled at him. "I'll address him properly in person, of course. Anyway, _the king_ would never force Lady Mary to marry anyone. But she – and he and the queen, I'd guess – know someone so important would not come all this way, only to say farewell and go home with nothing. He wants a wife."

"She married the first time for love," he mused. "This time will be different."

Their eyes met.

"Maybe not," Anna whispered, saying what they both were thinking. "Because she married Matthew for love, she knows what it's like. It would make her _less_ likely to want to marry for more pragmatic reasons."

"But she might not have that choice." It was not often Thomas felt sorry for the king's eldest daughter. He did not see how, if the king of Carlisle offered to marry her, that she would be able to turn him down. True, she already had George, but Thomas could see the foreign king wanting to have influence over the future ruler. Whatever the stories about Carlisle's kings, they were no fools.

Grantham was a stronger kingdom than when Robert was young (thanks to his advantageous marriage, and Matthew's wise counsel), but it would not do to insult the ruler of a far larger and wealthier land.

After a while, he let Anna show him the house. It was much like the one in which he had grown up, but she was proud of it.

It was hers.

He smiled, listening to her rattle on about the woven rug from her sister, and the low table the king had gifted her and John. The low fire crackled merrily in the hearth. A white cat ambled in, not flinching when Kap growled in her direction.

Thomas wondered why Anna's house looked so different from his. No shadows seemed to lurk in its corners.

 _Death has not touched it._

 _Yet._

His smile faded, and he shook his head to ward off the dark thought.

"What?" She asked, turning, her hands on her hips.

"Nothing," he forced a smile. "You have a lovely home. You should be proud of it."

"Thank you." Her bright blue eyes were soft. "I think it looks better when guests are here. Daisy came here several times," her voice hitched. "She and I would bake. I-I learned a lot from her."

He didn't trust himself to speak, but only nodded.

"Jane and Freddie are here often, and Phyllis comes here sometimes and brings Lily," she said, her voice stronger. "She laughed one day, and it was the most darling sound-"

A thought struck Thomas like a thunderbolt. He studied his friend as she talked. The way she moved. He felt his eyes burn with tears again, but for an entirely different reason.

"You won't have to wait long to hear a baby's voice again," he interrupted. "Your own." He swallowed. "You're carrying a child. Aren't you?"

Red rushed into her face. Her eyes grew wide, and she covered her mouth with her hands. "H-how did you know?" she asked shakily. "I-I wasn't sure until I went to see Isobel, and I won't be certain until I feel him or her move."

"I've seen women like you before," he reminded her. "Here in Downton, and at court. I pay attention." She had that indefinable something, a glow despite her paleness. "Does John know?"

She shook her head. "I haven't told him yet. I couldn't bear it if I did tell him, and then lost it. Oh, _please_ don't tell him," she pleaded.

That did make Thomas smile; a genuine one that reached his eyes. "I know better than to do that! He'd murder me for spoiling the news, when it should have come from you. Then Kap would finish me off. And Edward would _never_ forgive me."

"Thank the gods for Edward," she laughed, showing the gap between her teeth. "Never mind the other reasons; you'll behave because of him."

He swept her up in a hug, careful not to crush her. "True. I'm very happy for you," he whispered. "And John. You won't wait too long to tell him, will you?"

"No. I thought I'd wait until just before Midsummer."

He promised to hold his silence, to let her tell Elsie and Sybil herself. And Lady Mary.

He thought John would want to tell his father himself.

"Lady Mary'll send you all sorts of things," he said. "During the autumn, she made Sybil go through Master George's tunics. The ones he had when he was tiny." He grinned. "You'd better tell people before Midsummer, like you promised. I won't be able to hold in the secret otherwise. So many of your friends, and John's too, will be so happy for you. You can't imagine."

She beamed, her hands on her face. " _I'm_ so happy. I never thought I could be this happy," she whispered. "To see the look on John's face when I tell him, to see him hold our child…it's all I want."

Her happiness lifted his spirits.

Later, sitting by his mother's and sister's grave, he told them Anna's news, and about the other people he had seen that day.

Phyllis, and her unwavering encouragement. He thought some of that was down to his friendship with her when she was still married to that awful Peter, but something told him she would have been there for him even if he had never been her friend. She was that kind of person.

Sweet Lily.

John, and his worry about his family and friends.

Andy. His anger was just beneath the surface, ready to erupt. Thomas hoped someone would talk to him. And that he would listen.

He shook his head. _You're one to talk. Have you ever listened when you were angry?_

Anna, and her secret. He smiled widely.

 _I know why Kap is so protective of her._

* * *

The late afternoon sun was warm on his back. He was glad to turn east, to give his eyes some relief from the glare.

Sheep bawled on the hill below the house. Elsie, in her familiar blue cloak, watched the flock with Nosi. She was leaning on her crook with her head down. As Thomas got closer, he saw her weeping.

The sight made his chest ache.

 _You are not the only one suffering._

She glanced up, seeing him, and turned her face away, wiping her tears on the cloak. He did not like the guilt seeping into his heart.

 _Of course Papa is sad. I should try to understand him better. And Elsie did love Daisy, but she didn't know her like we did._

 _Her grief cannot be as deep as mine._

"You don't have to hide from me," he said.

"I just want to protect you." Her voice was thick.

"I'm not a child, Elsie," he bristled a little. "I can bear a burden easier than you think."

He tried not to think of how he'd sobbed at Phyllis's house.

"I'm sure you can," she half-smiled at him and sighed. "But that does not stop your father or me from wanting to make things easier for you. Or at least to not make them more difficult."

Not knowing what to say, he held out his hand to Nosi. She licked him and let him rub her head, then trotted back to the sheep. He was glad she was friendlier than her brother.

 _If she ever becomes hostile, Papa, Edward, and I won't be able to sleep in the house!_

 _You had better hope she doesn't act the same as Kap._

 _For more than one reason._

His face flushed crimson, thinking of the very suggestion.

 _You won't have to worry about_ _that_ _._

He glanced at his stepmother out of the corner of his eye. There were lines around her eyes that he hadn't noticed before. She was still strikingly beautiful, but she was also older. Several grey hairs glinted in the sun in between reddish and brown strands.

A thought that had nagged him at Phyllis's house bothered him, but he squelched it. There was no point in dwelling on facts that would change nothing.

"Is Papa asleep?" he asked. Elsie took a deep breath, as though her thoughts had been as far away as his.

"He woke up earlier and went fishing." She paused. "He asked me if I knew where you'd gone, or if you had said when you would be back."

Guilt flared anew inside Thomas. "I-I haven't gone fishing here for a long time," he muttered. "He's better off getting supper without me." Her eyes, if anything, made him more ashamed. "Is he still at the lake? Maybe I can catch him-"

"He's in the house," she gestured with her head. "Frying fish."

"I'd better go help him," he raised his eyebrows, half-joking. Papa did not often cook, but he knew his way around a fire enough to make a meal worth eating. He had fried fish often when they were in Staithes. "He'd be furious if he burned down the house."

"So would I," she said, her voice dry. They both turned when the sound of an angry curse came floating down the hill.

Thomas ran to the house. Papa knelt next to the hearth, sucking on one of his fingers. A charred fish lay half in an overturned bowl and half on the floor. Two others, blackened beyond hope, lay skewered on the edge of the hearth.

"Damn thing was too hot-"

"Here, let me try," Thomas carefully flipped over another fish. "The fire's hot enough. They don't need to be in there long."

" _I_ know that," Charles huffed, rolling his eyes. "How often do _you_ cook when you're at the palace, or the hall?"

"Never. When the king goes hunting and takes us along, though, sometimes we're forced to go fishing if our arrows and spears can't find a stag."

"The king hates fish," Charles winced at the pain in his finger. "He always has. I don't suppose he eats any, if it comes to that."

"No. But he understands if the rest of us are hungry."

They worked together in silence. It was not a horrible meal, Thomas thought. Elsie was happy that she did not have to make it.

"That was sweet of him, to help you," she whispered late that night in Charles's arms. Thomas was asleep on the other side of the room.

"I'm glad he did," Charles yawned. "I would have just burned myself again."

She kissed his fingers. "Better?"

"Mmm." The touch of her lips on his skin was oh so good, but his sleeping son and his own fatigue kept him from responding. He kissed her cheek instead. "I wish he would have talked to me. About Daisy, or about where he's going every day. Anything. I should have asked him where he went. He's not a boy anymore, but I still worry about him. I also worry," he wrapped his arms further around her, "that if I ask him questions, he would do the same to me. I was surprised he said nothing to me about being so awkward around the fire."

"You're probably right. I should have opened up to him earlier, but, well, there are things I can't say to him. Not ever," she murmured. "You know that. I do want to protect him, and neither of us wants to make him carry our grief along with his."

"We will get the chance to talk to him when the time is right. For him, and for us. I hope before Midsummer."

"Yes."

They both drifted off to sleep soon after.

Thomas lay still, not moving until he was sure they were asleep. Then he got up and felt his way to the half-open door. He breathed in the cool night air, his mind spinning.

 _Why DID Papa have such trouble with the fish? He never did before._

 _What is Elsie not telling me? What can't she say?_

 _I always knew she had a secret._


	61. Into the Storm

The next morning, dawn came gradually. Grey clouds covered the sky. It was warmer, but in the air there was a heaviness. Like a breath being held.

A storm was coming.

Thomas sat blinking at the low table, not fully awake. He had not slept well. He said nothing as his father hurried to milk the goats and to break his fast. Elsie swept out the hut. She was quiet as she baked bread, leaving traces of flour on her face.

Thomas knew not to expect them to say anything to him. They didn't know he had heard them the night before. And yet anger coiled in his belly.

 _How can they just go on and act as though they have nothing to hide? Do they think I would never know?_

He ate several figs, bread, and cheese so fast he almost choked on it. The very air choked him. He stood up while they were still seated.

"Where are you going?" Papa asked.

He flung open the door, not bothering to hide his exasperation. "Nowhere."

 _Leave me alone!_

"What _is_ wrong?" Charles got to his feet, frustration visible on his face. "Lad, tell me what's troubling you. I can't help you if you say nothing-"

"I don't need your help," Thomas turned to face his father. "Or yours," he spat the words at Elsie, who sat watching him. He hated her dark eyes. Like he was naked, like she saw through him.

 _Why should I tell you anything?_

"At least tell us where you're going," Papa tried again. It was obvious he was trying to hold his temper.

"Painswick. No, Hexham, that's farther. Actually," they young man continued, his tone sarcastic, "I think I'll walk to the Underworld. At least I might find some peace there."

He regretted the words the instant they came out. Papa blanched as though he'd punched him. Elsie sucked in her breath.

Not willing to stand there anymore, and not having anything to say, Thomas stomped out. He didn't know what he needed, or wanted. But he had to get away from his childhood home for a while. To breathe.

Away from his father, who had never confided in him. Away from his stepmother, who saw him as a child. He thought she was different, but no, in the end she felt the same as the man she had married.

He should have known better.

 _They don't understand. They never will._

He ignored Alfred and Jimmy, who walked to the house. The flock had been penned the day before, and they along with Charles and Elsie, were going to separate it into two parts once more. The two lads glanced at Thomas's irate expression and then at each other.

Charles stood in the doorway, his face stony.

"Good morning, Master," Alfred began, "Should we separate the rams from the rest first, or separate the ewes and lambs?"

"I told him we should separate the rams first," Jimmy said. "They're more difficult-"

"Oh, just get on with it," snapped the shepherd. "Before the rain comes." His apprentices flinched, and hurried to the pen. When their master was in a bad mood, it did not do to make him angrier.

* * *

Thomas wandered in the abandoned meadows east of his family's land. The clouds built above his head as he headed further, stomping over the bracken, stubbing his toes on small rocks. With a yell, he picked several up and threw them as far as he could.

If only there was someone he could talk to. Who would _listen_.

Thomas's eyes burned thinking of Edward. His mate loved him, and he always listened, but he didn't understand what he felt. And it would not be fair to vent his fury to his beloved man. Again.

How could Edward understand, when he, Thomas, didn't himself?

It make him all the more irritated that he could not put words to his frustration.

A light mist fell for a while. Instead of clearing the air, though, the dampness made it heavier. Turning to head towards the lake, he thought perhaps a swim, though cold, might clear his head.

Lightning flickered in the distance.

 _Who was it that died, struck by lightning, when I was little? Jacob's uncle?_

He had been afraid of storms as a small boy. Someone had told him they were the instruments of the gods' wrath, and he had believed it for a long time. But he knew better than to be in the lake when a storm loomed.

Instead, he made his way through fields, behind the brow of the hill where the shrine was. A rope bridge over a narrow stretch of the river had been left by someone. Every spring it washed away in the flood, and every spring, someone restored it.

The water roared close beneath his feet as he made his way across. A brown and yellow mass, swirling, never resting, rising along the banks and tearing away at the soft earth.

He could have climbed the hill to the shrine, and gone into the village using the road and the stone bridge there. It would have been easier. But he didn't want to.

He wanted nothing to do with the goddess.

The very thought of her only increased his ire.

Something in the way Papa had spoken before he left reminded him of their earlier battles over Eala. Like the river, all of his old animosity rushed to the surface.

' _Help'? The only 'help' my father ever tried was kneeling before candles and his old altar! Those wooden figurines he loves so much…_

 _Was it help he gave me after Mum died? And later, when he turned his back on me? 'Help'? Is that what he would call it!?_

 _Prayers, incantations…secrets. Things said in the dark, things he would never say to my face._

There were some people still milling about the marketplace, despite the rain beginning again. Thomas caught a glimpse of Ivy talking with Daniel's grandmother.

A flash of lighting blazed off to his left. It struck so close that it sizzled. The ensuing clap of thunder came almost at the same time, making him flinch.

Everyone left in the market scattered when the sky opened. Thomas ran, not really thinking of where he was going. The downpour was so sudden, and so swift, that in moments he was drenched to the skin, and water and mud splashed onto his feet and legs with every step he took.

Eala's temple was a solid presence through his blurred vision.

He raced up the stairs and stood in the open doorway, wiping his face. He could reach out and touch the water falling from the edge of the roof.

"Won't you come in?"

Isobel had to yell over the rain. She gestured for him to step inside, but he shook his head, his hair stuck to his face.

He couldn't remember the last time he had willingly stepped inside.

 _ **No**_ _,_ he thought as another flash of light ripped across the sky. _No, I won't, you can't make me!_

"I'll just wait here," he yelled over the thunder to the priestess. She was having none of it, however.

"Don't be ridiculous," she bellowed, "Wait inside until the storm passes!"

As if to further convince him, another bolt of lightning crashed on the other side of the line of trees bordering the edge of Downton, to the north. Thomas was looking in that direction when the lightning struck. It was so bright that when he blinked, he couldn't see.

 _Blind._

Stumbling, he felt Isobel grab his arm. She pulled the heavy doors shut behind him.

Rain drummed on the roof, and the temple girls chanted louder to drown it out. Their voices echoed in the large room.

Thomas blinked, little spots appearing as his vision cleared. The priestesses had lit several torches in the gloom. They flickered along the walls.

Isobel hurried to the far side of the temple, near the doorway that led to the gardens. She brought back an old cloak. "You can use this to dry off."

Water dripped from his tunic onto the floor. He made his way to the left corner near the front, opposite the mural of Eala and Harmony that was above the fertility altar. His feet were muddy, and he slipped and almost fell. He leaned against the wall for balance as he wrung out his tunic.

The farmer Tim and his wife Margie stood talking to Isobel. With them was a girl holding a cutting of a rose. Thomas recognized her as one of the couple's adopted children. The priestess put her hand on the girl's shoulder, and the two of them walked to the front of the temple. They burned incense in front of the high altar.

Beneath the statue of the goddess.

Thomas didn't want to look, but his eyes went there anyway.

His blood boiled at the sight of the stone figure.

 _Her._

 _It's_ _always_ _her. If it weren't for her, there would be no reason for me and Papa to argue._

 _No reason for the divide between us._

 _SHE started it._

Though the temple was far larger than the house where he had been born, its walls seemed to thicken. Closing in around him.

The statue's empty stone eyes seemed to call to him.

"Don't be a fool," he muttered to himself. "It's not real. And she's likely not real either…someone made her up, along with the rest of the gods, a long time ago."

Even as he said it he knew he did not believe it. Somewhere in the depths of his heart he knew the gods were real; albeit in what form, he didn't know.

Still, he clung to what had sustained him for so long.

"And…and if she and the rest of the lot _are_ real, it's not like they care! They don't care about any of us! We're just playthings to them."

He was sure of that.

 _ **She**_ _doesn't care._

His heart felt as though someone was squeezing it; his breath came short. His real argument was not with Elsie, or with his father.

It was, as it had always been, with the goddess.

He could not stay one moment longer in the sacred space.

The statue would not leave him alone.

Eala would not leave him alone.

He flung the damp cloak onto the stone floor and fled outside, into the storm.

* * *

Thomas regretted going out before he'd reached the bottom of the stairs. The rain poured down so hard it hurt his skin. Lightning struck the ground nearby, and thunder crashed.

But there was no going back.

As fast as he could sprint, it felt like the statue followed him. That the goddess followed him.

An unseen force, one that called silently to him, beckoned him closer.

He resisted it.

 _I don't WANT you!_

Past Richard's hut, near the grove where Anna and John had spoken their vows, he tripped and fell hard. Angrily, he pushed himself up, never mind the mud in his hair, on his face, all down his front. His cheek and his right knee hurt, but he ignored it. The pain was nothing to the pain in his chest.

Like his heart had been enclosed in stone, and was being shattered from the outside.

" _No one can fly from death. Or love."*_

It was a verse he had learned as a child. One of many, mindlessly repeated and recited from memory.

Was it death that chased him? No, death did not chase. It waited and struck at its leisure.

He had a strange sense of love pursuing him, of not letting up. No matter how far he went or how fast he ran, he could not escape it.

As hard as he wished to.

Thunder rumbled above him and shook the ground beneath his feet. The hill where his mother, sister, and so many others slept loomed before him. He skidded to a stop, planting his feet in the water and mud, the rain pouring over his head as he looked up.

Looked around, turning in a circle.

No one was there.

And yet he _felt_ someone there.

"What do you WANT from me!?" He screamed, holding out his arms. "Devotion? Prayers? Isn't it enough you have everyone's, especially my father's?" The thought of Papa made him angrier. "He's loved you forever – more than he's loved anyone! More than my mother, more than Daisy! And a damn sight more than he loves me! And you still want _MORE_!?"

He stomped in the road. He was already soaked through and dirty; more water and mud did not matter.

"I hate you!" he shrieked. He didn't care if he sounded like a child. If the Divine Lady was listening, she was probably laughing at him. "I _hate_ you! Why do you give us love, something that'll only hurt us? We can't keep it! You know that! _I – Hate – YOUUU!_ "

For good measure, he raised a fist and made an obscene gesture.

"Well? Why don't you kill me? Get rid of me?"

Nothing.

Water flowed down the road. His feet were beginning to sink in the mire.

"If you won't do that, then come here and face me!" He shouted, throwing his head back. "Come on, come on, you know what _I_ look like! I want to see _YOU!_ You, the vain goddess who gives love without feeling it! You don't know what it's like! Loving people and watching them die! Knowing that someday you'll be all alone!"

The lightning and thunder began to ebb, but the rain did not.

"No, you just give love without thinking, without caring what happens to us! Is this a game to you? Come on, show yourself, Eala! Let me see how beautiful you really are! Are you afraid I won't be convinced? Show yourself! _**SHOW YOURSELF**_ _!_ "

He turned in another circle, yanking his feet from the mud. There was no one there.

Only the trees at the top of the hill, their leaves and branches bent under the wind and rain. The gloomy grey sky above.

"I should have known you wouldn't," he seethed. "No, you gods only appear when you aren't wanted."

Trudging up the hill, he began to crack. The weight of those he had already lost burdened his heart.

 _Mother. Daisy._

As well as those he would lose someday.

 _Edward._

 _Papa._

 _Sybil. Anna. Phyllis._

 _Master George. He's younger than me, but look what happened to his father..._

"They'll die," he whispered. "They'll all _die_." A cry erupted from his mouth. Imagining Edward, his mate, cold and still. He fell onto his hands and knees between the graves of his mother and Daisy. Punching the soggy earth, the beaten-down grass, he howled. "Why did you make me love him? Love all of them? Why, why, _why?_ "

Mud and water splashed into his face, squelched between his fingers. He didn't care.

 _Elsie._

The image of his stepmother's face in his mind felt as though someone stabbed him.

"Why did you have to send _her_?" he whispered. "It would've been better for my father to have married someone just to warm his bed and cook his meals. It would have been easier to live with someone who didn't…care for me at all…"

He bent over, his hands on his knees, unable to stop the tears any more. Remembering the way she had asked him to be friends. Her comforting him when Daisy died.

 _She said she loved me._

"She'll die and go to Hades just like the rest of them," his voice broke. "I'll be alone. Alone forever."

He sank down onto the wet ground in between Daisy's grave and his mother's and wept.

* * *

The sheep were separated into two flocks. Charles let his anger and frustration go, concentrating on the task before him. Just after he sent half of the animals with Alfred to the meadow, the rain began.

By the time the others clustered in between the hills in front of the house, the storm was upon them.

"Stay here!" Charles yelled to Jimmy. Lightning flashed across the road. "Away from the trees!"

"I'll go and tell Alfred to keep himself and the flock away from the ash tree," Elsie tugged on his sleeve. "His first instinct will be to look for some shelter."

"Be careful," he flinched as the lightning came down again, this time behind the lad's hut, close to the tall oak there. "I hope this doesn't mean the King of the Gods is in a foul temper."

She kissed him on the cheek. "No. _Someone_ is upset," she lowered her voice, despite Jimmy being a safe distance away and the noise from the storm. "But not my father. If he was truly angry, I would know."

As she ran up the hill and into the meadow and back, telling Alfred where to keep the flock, she wondered who else was taking out their wrath on the land. Borrowing her father's lightning and thunderbolts.

Besides her.

Despite not being in divine form, she had felt the storm coming for a long time. She felt rather guilty that it was, in part, her doing.

But she could not hold it back anymore. Her essence, her very presence, had been held at bay for long enough.

It was not as the mortals thought: that the gods sent storms to frighten them (well, except for Uncle Peter and her father, both of whom were fond of using them). Sometimes, though, there was no other way to get their attention.

Her heart ached.

 _Thomas._

 _One way or another, you cannot hold Me back forever._

There was more to the storm than just her, though. She had no time to wonder who else used the weather, or why. Likely whoever it was had business elsewhere. There had been no sign of anyone else's interference near the village. She or Sybil would have known it, even being in mortal form.

It was a comfort knowing none of the storm was Victor's work.

The Master of Fire never displayed his temper with rain.

She had just gotten to the brow of the hill, their house visible, when she heard them.

Thomas's prayers.

 _Though he would not call them so, that is what they are._

His anguish was so palpable it brought tears to her eyes.

She walked forward, so intent on his words, she paid no attention to where she was going. Thomas's face, obscured by rain, flickered in her vision.

The back of her heel slipped into a hole in the ground. Charles caught her before she fell sprawling.

"I told you to be careful," her husband teased gently. His smile disappeared, seeing her upset, holding back tears. "What's wrong?"

Her voice was distant, as though she spoke to someone else. "I will answer him," she murmured as she righted herself. "He has called for me, and I will answer."

Her essence was always with Thomas, as it was with everyone. Her loved son was not usually aware of this.

 _He is aware now. If only for a short time._

It was exceptionally rare for her to answer a summons. Especially one flung at Her with such disrespect.

If she had been in divine form, she would have flown to him on the spot. Not because he screamed, daring the goddess to reveal herself.

But because he needed her.

More than he knew.

 _It is better to go to him in mortal form, rather than in a blaze of glory. He needs the nearness of a friend more than the distance of a heavenly figure._

"Who called you? Where?" Charles put his hands on his wife's shoulders. Her skin was drained of color, and the wrinkles stood out on her face. "Who wants you?" She looked stricken with grief, like just after Daisy had died.

She blinked and met his eyes. "It's just an expression," she said quickly, biting her lip. It was not his place to know of prayers. Especially not his son's.

Charles's heart sank. "Is it – _Victor_?" He did not say the god's name aloud, but only mouthed it. Elsie shook her head.

"It's not my father, either. Please don't worry." She touched his face. "I will come back."

"All right," he said, uncertain, as she walked past him. It was clear something had unsettled her. And yet he sensed her gentleness, her warmth and compassion just beneath the surface.

 _Someone's in trouble. Someone she loves dearly._

He wanted to ask her again who it was. Surely if it was the Messenger or one of her former lovers, she would have told him. But she had been honest with him, and had never displayed this amount of distress over any of them. So that seemed wrong. He trusted her completely.

And it wasn't a mortal, he was sure. The gods were not at the beck and call of humans.

"If you see Thomas, try to convince him to come home. It's miserable out here." Nosi wound her way through his legs, huddled beneath his dripping cloak. He picked up the soaking-wet puppy.

Elsie gave him a half-smile and tucked her hair behind her ears. "I will."

Going down the hill, she hurried along the road, holding her hood over her head to keep the wind from blowing it back. She had not seen precisely where Thomas was, but she could guess.

 _How blind you are, my son._

 _No matter what you say, or do, I will never stop loving you._

 _You do not understand Love._

* * *

 **A/N: * "Nec mortem effugere quisquam nec amorem potest." (No one is able to flee from death or love.) ~Syrus,** _ **Maxims**_


	62. Two Sides of the Goddess

For how long he cried, Thomas didn't know.

The pain of loss was not new, having lived through similar grief after losing his mother. But his desolation now was something deeper. Something begun years before, something that he had buried. Beneath anger and fear.

As angry as he had been with his father, he had never doubted his love.

He felt abandoned by the goddess.

 _I shouldn't care if she did._

 _She doesn't care about me. I don't care about her._

 _We're even._

 _You do care, though. If you believe she is real in some form, and you do, then you believe she loves you._

"Thank you, Edward," he mumbled. The words in his head were as clear as if his mate sat next to him. He wasn't sure he believed them.

He rolled over onto his side, then onto his back. His face to the sky. It still rained, but the drops were less a torrent than a gentle stream.

Sitting up, he ripped his wet and muddy tunic from his leg. He winced when it came away. Skin had been torn from a large part of his right knee, and it seeped blood. He wiped at it gingerly with a bit of his tunic that was cleaner than the rest. Then he gritted his teeth and let the rain wash it clean.

"The Goddess of Love," he whispered through the pain. He had meant to snarl, to bark out the words.

But just as he said them, a memory from when he was very small came to him. He and his mother were sitting by the low table. She held her hand over his as his finger traced words on a scroll.

" _Eee…uh…luh."_

" _Eala," she said, making no 'e' sound. "The 'a' is like the sound in 'day'. It's difficult, I know." She kissed the top of his head, her arm around him. "Read the next words. You can do it."_

"' _Eala, the divine lady…giver of love, and life, and be…be…uh…" He sighed, impatient._

" _Beauty."_

" _Beauty. Hear us when we pray." This part was easier. He had heard Papa and Mummy say the words a lot. He could almost say them from memory, but he wanted to read them out loud._

 _Make Mummy proud._

"… _give us open hearts to re-receive Your love, and to give it to others." His childish voice was stilted, but he soldiered on. "Give us open hands to hold the life You give uh-uh-around us, and to share it with all. Give us open eyes to see the won-ders You bring the earth, and sing its g-lory every day."_

" _That is wonderful!" She cried, hugging him. She laughed in delight and kissed him. "You read so well, Thomas! I am so proud of you! I love you," she whispered. She smiled against his cheek._

" _Jacob can't read like that!" he puffed out his chest. "May told me and Papa that he can't, and he's older than me!"_

" _Not many boys who've seen only five Midsummers can read as well as you," she kissed him again. "And none of them are as clever! Go on, read more."_

 _He read to her a tale of Eala and her daughter Harmony. Someone had drawn a little picture on the bottom of the scroll, of a woman with an infant in her lap._

" _Is that what she looks like? The goddess?" He pointed at it._

" _No one knows," Mummy said. She rolled up the scroll again and set it aside. "She might look like the statue in the temple. Your papa thinks so, and I agree with him."_

" _She's the most beautiful goddess," he nodded with all the certainty of a small child. "And she loves us."_

 _Mummy smiled, her dimples showing. "She loves all of us – your brother or sister, too. The baby's moving," she rubbed her hand over her rounded belly. "Here, come feel-"_

 _Before she had finished the words, he was half on her lap. Ever since Papa and Mummy told him about the baby he wanted to SEE him or her. They kept telling him he had to wait._

 _Waiting was hard._

 _At least he could_ feel _his little brother or sister._

 _He tapped his fingers against Mummy's belly, feeling the little kicks back._

 _Mummy laughed. "Ooh, you're ticklish."_

 _He laughed, and she laughed, and the baby must have been laughing too, giving him nudges._

Thomas rested his chin on his knees, his eyes red. His hair dripped on his legs.

His father had always been devoted to Eala. It was easy to forget how much his _mother_ had taught him about the goddess – especially when he was younger.

Yes, Mum taught him the 'proper' prayers that were written in scrolls and kept in the temple, but it was through her eyes that he learned of Eala and the other gods as…well, _human_.

Somehow he held his father's piety against him, but not his mother's. Maybe it was easier because she was dead, and he wasn't. But there was more to it than that.

As a small boy, Thomas had sometimes thought of Eala as a lot like his mother. Singing the songs, reciting the prayers, and reading the stories, he had known of course that she was _not_ the goddess (or any one of them at all), but he had felt the Divine Lady was like her. Kind, gentle, firm when she had to be - and above all, loving.

Willing to forgive.

 _Mum never held a grudge. She forgave my mistakes, and helped me to try to be a better person._

 _Not like Papa._

Things had changed the last time Mum had fallen ill. Papa had seemed to walk with a dark cloud over his head. He had snapped at small things, never satisfied with anything Thomas did or didn't do. He prayed at his altar morning, noon, and night.

To all the gods, always to the Healer in those days, but most of all to the Goddess of Love. A candle had always been lit before her figurine.

His children had learned not to disturb him while he prayed. He hardly spoke aloud, pouring out his petitions in silence.

Thomas remembered his doubts creeping in during those days. Watching Mum waste away, Daisy crying, Papa silent. As his mother slipped into death, his childlike faith in Eala had left too.

 _What sort of divine being makes us love people who we're only going to lose?_

He had become convinced the Divine Lady and the other gods looked on humans as toys. Fun to meddle with, but ultimately worthless.

All the while demanding their prayers and worship.

 _The gods expect us to be perfect. If we make a mistake, or do something wrong, they take it out on us. No mercy._

 _Why should I try to please all of you if I am doomed to fail?_

The road from doubt to disbelief had been short, though one that he had never fully taken.

His view of Eala, he recognized, had become colored by his father's behavior. She was no longer the warm, compassionate figure, but someone else entirely. Distant. Remote.

Papa had been calm when Thomas told him that he liked boys, not girls. Like Mum, he had said he loved him, but his son had had a nagging feeling ever since that his father thought less of him.

His desire to serve the king at the palace, instead of staying home to watch the flocks, had been another divide between them.

 _I know he loves me, but I'll always be a disappointment to him._

Tears started in his eyes and his throat burned.

Papa had changed since Mum died. More since he married Elsie. Thomas was not so obstinate to refuse to see it, despite his earlier hostility towards his stepmother. Daisy had seen how the woman had changed their father, too.

But now Daisy was gone. There was no other person to soften Papa's heart, or to intercede if Thomas argued with Elsie. Edward was deferential and would keep out of the way, and Sybil would take her mother's side.

 _Elsie might say she loves me now, but in the end, she won't. I will do something to disappoint her, too. Not like Daisy…_

It wasn't fair that his beloved sister lay buried in the ground, and he was still here. With only memories of her.

He wanted to know what the point of loving her, of loving Mum, was. He wanted to know _why_.

The Eala of his childhood and the Eala of his youth had blurred together. Was she a kind and benevolent being, or was she a power that demanded homage? Did she love him, or judge him as another disappointment?

How could he know?

Confusion made his head throb.

Everything that he had been taught made him uncomfortable. Because the goddess seemed to have two sides – the loving figure, but also one that did not simply accept the complicated young man that he was. He didn't feel as bad as some thought, though he was all too aware of his own imperfections.

He had felt hunted when he ran from the temple. An unseen force chasing him.

 _I didn't_ _really_ _think the goddess would appear._

It was disappointing that his challenge had gone unanswered.

He remembered sitting in the tall grass in the meadow as a child while his father watched the flocks. Talking to Eala as if she was there with him, he had had no doubts then that she was. His eyes half-closed, the whisper of the breeze through the grass, the warm air wrapped around him like strong arms.

Everything seemed so clear then.

Sitting on the hill beneath the heavy clouds, he sighed, running his hand through his soaked hair. It was as though someone waited for him to speak.

 _If you were a god, would you expect someone like you to stay the same? Or change?_

 _Gods can't expect us to be perfect!_

 _You can at least_ _ **try**_ _to behave better._

"When I return to court, I've a mind to whip you both," he muttered to himself, exasperated. Edward and Sybil had made such arguments to him before. "Whose side are you on? Not mine!"

He got up and paced back and forth behind his mother's grave. No amount of movement seemed to stir a new thought in his mind. And remembering the past did not help him in his present situation.

Or warm him. He shivered. The spring air was not cold, but his tunic was soaked through and the breeze chilled him. He didn't want to go home. Not yet.

 _You could go to Phyllis's house and dry off. She never minds._

 _Or Richard's. He could tell Isobel I'm fine._

That would be the worst – if the priestess told her lover that Thomas had run out into the storm, they both might go tell Papa. And that would not help matters at all.

He had worked up the nerve to go back to the village when he saw Elsie walking along the road. Her hood was up against the rain, but he saw some of her red hair peeking out.

His heart sank.

 _You are the_ last _person I wanted to see._

She made him feel weak. With Papa it was easier to stay angry.

Like everyone else, he would only lose her someday.

* * *

 **A/N: I swear I'm not trying to torture you all. Life has been kicking me hard this last week, making it difficult to write or edit anything. And this chapter was giving me fits – I like being in Thomas's POV, but he's not in a happy place right now. I ended up chopping a bunch of this chapter out (stuff with Thomas and Elsie), partly because the chapter was turning into a monster, and also because I wasn't satisfied with what I had written.**

 **If you have time, please drop me a line and tell me what you think. Feedback is always welcomed. Thank you!**


	63. The Way Home

**A/N: Thank you so much for your patience! Life has been very up and down over the last month. I truly did not mean to take this long of a break, especially leaving the story where it was.**

 **Thank you to the guest reviewer who asked about this story earlier this month. Believe me, a five word review consisting of a simple question "Hey, what's going on here?" meant more than you can imagine.**

 **Another long one here. Let me know what you all think of this very-long-planned conversation. I hope I did it justice. There's a tiny bit of Chelsie at the end of this chapter; there's other character stuff coming in the next chapter or two, but they are, as ever, the center of this story.**

 **Thank you all. Your support means the world to me.**

* * *

Shaking his head, Thomas crossed his arms as Elsie climbed the hill towards him. "What are you doing here?" he grunted at her, his voice harsh. He hoped she didn't notice the goosebumps on his skin. "You'll just get wetter out here."

The rain had almost stopped, but the trees behind him dripped and the ground was more like a bog.

"I am aware of that." She arched an eyebrow. "You don't miss much, do you?"

Thomas ignored her sarcasm. It reminded him too much of himself. "Did my father send you to look for me?"

 _It would be like him to do that. Have her drag me back home so they could yell at me._

She stared at him until he dropped his gaze. Confound it, when she looked at him like that it was like she knew was he was thinking!

"No." Her voice was clipped. "No, he did not send me."

 _Maybe he did, and maybe he didn't._ "How did you find me?"

Her eyes drifted to Alice's grave. Daisy's grave was next to it, and Remme's at the foot of Daisy's. "There are only a few places you would go." A line formed between her eyes. "You're bleeding." She took a step forward, but he stepped back.

"I know," he held his hands up. "The rain washed the wound clean. I'm fine-"

"Not your knee. Your cheek." Before he could move, she took a torn bit of cloth inside the little bag hanging on her belt and pressed it beneath his eye.

" _Ouch!_ "

"Keep still," she ordered in a no-nonsense voice. Pulling her hand away slowly, he saw blood on the cloth.

He tried to ignore the look in her eyes. Worry, concern…tenderness. His cut stung, but he bit his lip to keep from wincing while she cleaned it. His belly churned and he clenched his fists together.

 _Why did she have to find me now? I wanted to be alone!_

The words he had heard the previous night echoed in his mind.

He waited until she had finished before speaking. "I heard you last night."

"What?" Her surprised expression made his temper flare, but he held himself in check.

"I heard you. You and Papa both. He said he asked me nothing, because he was afraid that I would ask _him_ questions. What is he afraid of? Why did he have trouble frying the fish? He never did before."

Better for him to ask her questions, rather than be driven mad by the questions roiling inside him.

She studied him, her lips in a thin line. Once more he felt she was scrutinizing him. He glared back at her, unwilling to let her get the better of him.

"It's his hands," she said, breaking the silence between them. She sighed. "Sometimes they shake. Not always, but it has happened often enough now that he knows it will not go away."

That was not something Thomas expected to hear. "His hands shake? What-how long has this been going on?" He tried to think if he had seen it before.

"Since Daisy's funeral, if not before. He thought it was just nerves, the emotion of the day-" she blinked, and looked away. There was no need to remind either of them of it. "But it's happened since then. A few times. His grandfather, your great-grandfather, had shaky hands too," she told him. "Your father's father never did, but he died a younger man."

A cold chill crept over Thomas's heart.

 _It's an old man's malady._

"Why did he not tell me?" He whispered, more to himself than to Elsie.

Her eyes were soft. "He did not want to worry you. He's perfectly capable of tending the flocks and looking after things. That _is_ true – he's no invalid."

"For now." He felt his anger boiling again. At Papa, for not telling him; at Elsie, for knowing about it while he was ignorant; at the gods, who kept throwing bad things at them. At him. "Who's to say it won't get worse later?"

 _It isn't fair!_

He thought he could glimpse the future – his father, white-haired and feeble. Elsie, grown old as well and unable to cope.

Him, having to return to the place that held nothing but memories, and left alone to care for the sheep.

 _I should have known he would have found some way to bring me back here._

He always hated the way the sheep smelled, especially after a rainstorm.

He hated himself for being selfish; thinking of himself and the life he had made away from Downton. At court.

"You don't know that it will get worse-" she began.

He cut her off. "You don't know that it won't. But what else do you know that I do not?"

"Nothing." Her answer was too quick. Her eyes revealed nothing.

It was difficult to accuse her to her face. But he pressed on. "You knew about Papa, and would have kept silent if I hadn't forced you to tell me! I've always thought there was something different about you. Something you aren't telling me. I heard you last night! What can't _you_ say to me? I know you're hiding something else. I am _so tired_ of lies!"

Thunder rumbled in the distance. He felt the vibration beneath his feet.

"Thomas," she closed her eyes. "There are things I do not say – things I _choose_ not to say. That does not make me a liar. I do not have to tell you everything." Folding her hands, she fixed him with her steady gaze. For once, he could read her thoughts. The stubborn set of her jaw.

 _The more you push, the more I will resist._

It irritated him beyond belief that she was stronger than him.

"I do not ask for _everything_ ," he ground out through his teeth. Despite his best effort, he felt his temper rising. "But I do ask for the truth. I am no fool, Elsie, nor am I a child. If you won't tell me your secret, I'll only find it out later. You _know_ I will!"

She knew him well enough to know he would not relent.

 _If he is not careful, he will regret his curiosity one day._

She was the cause of his ire, she knew.

Both sides of her. Eala and Elsie.

 _I cannot tell him of my divinity, for his own safety. I will not. He would not believe it, anyway._

 _Not unless I revealed Myself, which I will not do._

 _He asks for the truth. I will give it, if only a small piece._

She had no idea how he would react.

"I cannot have any more children," she said quietly. "Your father knows."

 _Cannot. Will not. Must not._

 _Does it matter which word I use?_

She and Charles had spoken of it between them some time before, and she had come a long way towards reconciling herself to the reality of it.

Thomas was shocked – whether at her candor, or at her words themselves, at first she didn't know. He put his hand to his mouth and shuffled sideways.

But there was an unmistakable glint of pain that she saw flash in his eyes. Like the last spark of a fire going out, turning to ash.

It broke her heart.

He felt terrible for forcing her to tell him something that hurt her. She almost looked like she was going to cry. He was certain she told the truth, though he was not certain as to how she would know for sure she was barren. She had said it with such finality.

Women seemed to have an intuition about such things.

"Are you sure?" He asked. Something inside him wanted to be certain. "After all, you had Sybil-"

"-a long time ago," she said. "It was a different time, and I was different. Younger," she added, almost as an afterthought.

He hardly heard her, his emotions in turmoil. All of it was too much. The losses in his life, Papa's hands; even Elsie's sadness.

 _If the goddess loves us so much,_ _ **why**_ _does she give us hope? It is cruel!_

Holding Lily in Phyllis's house had been bittersweet – he was very happy for his friend, but her child was a stark reminder of what he would never have.

And now he knew: what his father would never have again.

Though Thomas knew Sybil preferred men, she had told him she was happy being alone.

 _Papa would have loved grandchildren._

 _If I had died, rather than Daisy, at least our family would have gone on._

"It should have been me," he whispered. Tears stung his eyes. "It should have-have-been me."

* * *

 _His heart pounded like it had never pounded before. Like it would come right out of his chest. Papa waited, his eyebrows together, sitting beneath the ash tree with his crook on his lap._

" _The truth is," Thomas took a breath, his hands sweating as he clutched his knees, "I-I like…boys. I like them the way most boys like girls." He didn't want there to be any doubt. "I'll never marry a girl and bring her here."_

 _His voice, so unreliable on the best of days, cracked on the last word._

 _He thought about saying he would never have a child. But he didn't feel the need to break his father's heart._

 _Any more than he already had._

 _Papa was silent. To Thomas's surprise, he did not look away from him. He merely gripped his crook a little tighter._

" _I tried not to like boys," Thomas whispered. "I tried so hard." His voice cracked again as he scratched the back of his neck. His knobby fingers ached, as though the day he'd been beaten by the mob of angry boys had happened the day before. "Jacob saw me with that new temple girl Anna by the river. He thought we'd kissed. I made it sound like we had. She's beautiful," he pictured her golden hair and blue eyes. "But we'll only ever be friends. I don't…I can't make myself like her that way. I can't make myself like_ any _girl."_

 _ **And I never will.**_

 _ **I'll never be the son you wanted. Watching the flocks, raising a family, never straying too far from home.**_

 _He thought he saw a flicker of something in Papa's eyes. Was it unshed tears?_

 _Or repressed revulsion?_

 _Clearing his throat, Papa glanced at the meadow. "Were you afraid of what I would say? I assume your mother knows."_

 _Thomas didn't trust himself to speak, merely nodding. Mum had known a long time. She had told him ever since that he needed to tell Papa._

" _You are my son," his father said softly. There was no hint of anger in his voice. Thomas frowned, meeting his eyes. The shepherd raised his eyebrows. "You are my son, and I love you. I'll always love you."_

 _He gave Thomas a hug. Like he always had._

 _But that evening, laying on his sheepskin, Thomas heard Papa kneeling at the altar. Crying. His words to the goddess were garbled, and made little sense, try as the boy did to hear them._

 _It was clear to him that Papa was devastated._

 _ **Of course**_ _, he thought, feeling numb. He rolled over onto his side. Daisy sprawled next to him, snoring._ _ **Of course Papa says one thing to me when he really feels exactly the opposite.**_

 _ **Of course he pours it all out to EALA. Not me.**_

 _ **He can be honest with her, but not his own son!**_

 _He punched the sheepskin, wanting to scream._

 _Not long after, he began calling Papa Father instead. The rift between them only deepened._

* * *

Thomas covered his face.

 _Forever a failure in his eyes._

 _I'm the one he's stuck with._

 _But you know all this, don't you, Divine Lady? He_ _always_ _goes to you first._

"What do you mean, 'it should have been you'?"

Thomas jumped a little. He had forgotten Elsie was there.

"Never mind," he snapped, not wanting to tell her.

It would not change anything.

"This not about me or your Papa, is it?"

"No," he gritted through his teeth. Whether it was rage or sadness or both, he felt it choking him. Like when he had been in the temple.

He waited for her to be like his father. To tell him to tell her what was wrong. But she did not.

Without a word, she removed her dark blue cloak and wrapped it around him. The outside of it was damp, and dripped water, but the inside was warm and dry. He pulled it closer around himself, shivering. He couldn't help it – he was a lot colder than he had realized. His mind cleared a little as his body relaxed. He sat down, keeping the cloak beneath him to ward off the dampness on the ground.

She sat beside him.

The only sounds were the distant thunder and the rain dripping from the trees at the top of the hill. The rushing water on the road.

His turmoil was palpable. She could almost see it covering him, like a dark mist of anger and sadness.

 _I want to reach you._

 _I have always been by your side, and always will be._

 _You must stop running from Me. Or you will never be at peace._

 _Why do mortals so often try to flee? From love? From feeling anything at all? It only makes it worse, once they cannot fight it off anymore._

 _The gods know it is folly to run from the truth._

As she thought it, her own truth struck her as if it were one of her father's lightning bolts. She closed her eyes.

 _ **You**_ _ran._

 _ **You** left the divine halls to avoid marrying Victor._

 _Yes, you asked your father, and He agreed to let you go – because you both knew you would have to return._

 _I came here to learn from the mortals,_ she argued with herself, _to learn how they live without knowing the presence of love._ _ **NOT**_ _to escape my fate._

 _Didn't you, though?_ A small voice asked. _Small wonder that you understand Thomas so well. He reminds you of yourself._

Her son was crying again. Hesitating, she touched his head. He did not shake her off, but only wept harder. His black hair was wet.

 _I did not expect to meet Charles when I came here. To love him, and to be loved in return. I expected none of what has happened._

She gently ran her fingers through Thomas's hair, soothing him.

 _I am here not just for my own good. I am here for his._

 _More for him than even for Charles's sake._

 _The shepherd needs me as his wife. His mate, his woman._

 **I** _need him._

 _Thomas needs me as a mother figure, and a friend._

 _And as a goddess, though he will never know it while he lives._

"If my anger was just against my father, we would have settled it a long time ago," Thomas said finally. He snuffled, wiping his face on the cloak. "When I was a child, I loved him as much as I loved Mum. But after I knew I loved boys, after Mum got ill and died…he pulled away from me. I could have borne it if he'd just been angry with me. Been sad that he'd lost my mother. But he turned to _her_ , just when _I_ needed him, needed to know what he thought and what he felt – he turned away from me and Daisy, both of us, and gave _her_ his whole heart! As if _she_ needed him more than we did," he snarled.

"Who?" Her voice was little more than a breath. A whisper on the wind.

"Eala. The Divine Lady. Beautiful Lady…whichever name everyone calls her, they mean the same thing. The _goddess_." Thomas wrapped the cloak more securely around his shoulders, feeling the need for something to hold onto. "Papa prayed to all the gods, but to _her_ most of all. _She's_ the one he turned to, not us. She's a goddess! Why did she need someone _else_ praying to her morning, midday, and night?"

He thought about his earlier skepticism of the gods' existence, then set it aside.

 _You've always believed in them. You would not have hated them – her – so much if you didn't._

"Maybe prayers are for us, to remind us that we are not alone," she said. "Not simply for the gods' benefit." He nodded, curt.

"Mum used to say that. She believed it, too. But what use did prayers do for her? She still suffered and died long before she should have. And what has Papa gotten from his prayers?"

 _More than you know._ She vividly remembered Charles's prayers for a wife. "You think they received nothing."

"It looks that way." He glanced at her. The dampness had curled her hair, making it look like an auburn halo around her head. "Edward says sometimes we receive answers to prayers without knowing it. Or recognizing them when they come to us."

 _Dear Edward._ "He is right."

"But how do I _know!?_ " He shook his head, exasperated. The feeling of being pursued crept over him again, like the cloak wrapped around him. "I…I want her to leave me alone. It's better to have the gods ignore me than for me to pray and hope for answers that never come."

"Would it not be better to pray and see what happens? It seems to me," she said carefully, "That you have been fighting your own instincts."

 _Fighting Her._

 _Me._

He rubbed his nose. The sky had lightened from a dark blue to light grey. The clouds swirled above their heads. He bent his neck, looking at the beaten-down grass around them.

"Have you ever been fighting so long," he whispered, "That the reason you're fighting becomes a part of you? I know if I let go, if I let her in…I won't know what's on the other side."

It was easier to hate Eala for taking Papa away. To turn from what Mum had taught him.

 _Why should I give the goddess anything more? She has everything, and takes what she wants anyway!_

As he argued, images swam in his head. Of Papa, teaching him to fish. Mum, letting him hold Daisy when she was an infant. Daisy, ignoring his darker moods and making him smile. Phyllis, who gave him affection even when she was starved of it herself.

John, cheering him on at the competition; his crutch abandoned on the ground. Anna, Richard, Joseph, Master George. The king and queen, and Lady Mary.

The apprentices had been friendly with him. They did not have to be.

Even the priestesses.

Sybil. And Elsie.

Edward most of all.

Were they all not gifts? They had given him love at one time or another, in different ways. Kindness, tenderness, encouragement – all without asking anything of him in return.

 _I have been given love, but I did not see it._

 _What did I ever do to deserve it?_

 _Nothing._

He had held on to his anger, his bitterness for so long he did not know how to set it aside.

 _It has blinded me as to what is right in front of my eyes._

 _It was not Papa's fault Mother died. He mourned her, too._

 _Maybe he felt lost when she died. Maybe he turned to Eala, and to the rest of the gods because that was the first thing he thought of._

"The goddess does not wish you ill. She never has."

"I know," he murmured. "Deep down I knew it wasn't true. But I held onto it. I was afraid. I _am_ afraid." He turned to his stepmother, into the depths of her eyes. "My mother was taken away, my sister was taken away. Papa is all I have now. Him and Edward." He swallowed. _You._ He could not bear to say it aloud; he felt on the brink of tears once more. "I can't lose them. Not them too. But I will."

She waited. It all came out, like the river overflowing its banks.

"When Papa fell in love with you, it was like he was already gone. It was easier to pretend he was. It made it hurt less. Then Daisy was happy, and I felt cut off from you all…then I started to feel like maybe I wasn't, not as things got better between Papa and me. Sybil helped, too. And you…" he glanced at her, remembering the journey to Staithes the summer before, of defending her from the strange men. The way she'd cared for him then, and since. "I thought maybe Edward was right, maybe I had a family that loved me. I started opening up, not being so closed off. And then…and then," he shuddered once again, "Daisy died. And it all came back."

"What did?" She asked, moving her hand from the top of his head to his back.

"The truth. I should have told Edward a long time ago to stay away from me. To leave me alone. It won't end well, it never does. We all die. We all… _die_."

A sob broke from his mouth and his shoulders shook. His fingers gripped his forehead as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"He wants to be the captain of the king's guard," Thomas whispered, gulping for air. "Eventually. And when he is, every time there's a battle, he will be right in the middle of it."

 _And he will die. His body carried home, broken and bloody…_

"He told me." She tried to reassure him. "It will be a long time before that happens – if it does. The king and queen might not want to let him out of their service."

"They will," Thomas sniffed. He felt empty. "He's the finest player at court, and they always want him to play the lyre at feasts, but the king is not a fool. He won't keep a strong young man like Edward from joining the guards. His blood family may have despised him, but he was trained to be a soldier. And he's a natural." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was merely damp rather than wet. Elsie's hand had warmed him.

"It is unlikely that even were you to tell Edward to keep his distance from you, that he would do it," Elsie smiled a little. "He loves you. And you love him."

"Yes," he whispered. "But why? Why do we love? Why does the goddess make us love anyone, knowing we can't keep them? It's cruel!"

She bit her lip. "You have loved, without knowing if your love would be returned. More than once. It takes courage to do so, but you still did it. I hardly think the Divine Lady _made_ you love Edward." She raised her eyebrows.

"No," he mumbled. _That was the easiest thing I ever did._

"To be human is to love, Thomas. It is not the barrier that most of us find ourselves facing."

"What is?"

"Our own pride. It is easier to love someone, but hard to be loved," she squeezed his shoulder. "We do not like to admit that we can't live on our own. We are weak and vulnerable, when we'd rather the world think we are strong - and nothing can touch us. You are loved, Thomas. You know that. By many people. You're loved especially by Edward, and by your father and me."

"I don't know why," he grunted. "I've spent most of my life pushing people away."

"Do you really think you would be better off if you pushed everyone away? You never pushed Daisy away. Or your mother. Phyllis told me," she added, knowing it sounded plausible that she had talked to the wheelwright's wife. "Yes, we will lose those we love…but we must _let_ them love us, while they are with us. It is a gift. The greatest gift we can ever receive. That is what the goddess gives us. We must share it."

A sparrow called from a branch, and flew to another. Thomas felt the warmth of the sun on his head, flowing down. Like the words seeping into his skin.

"And she expects us to take the gift," he whispered, "Without regard for how much we might suffer later?"

"We suffer if we try to stop love," she told him. "It must be given without reason, and received in any form it comes. That is the nature of a true gift – it comes even if we do not ask for it. If we're not looking for it. Sometimes it may not feel like it is something we want, but it is something we need." Her voice grew soft. "More than we know."

He dug his hands into the grass, feeling mud and water squelch in between his fingers.

"Love cannot be harnessed," he said. The sun warming him brightened everything, made every blade of grass stand out, glistening with raindrops.

He was not ready to say aloud that he had changed. Letting out a breath, he relaxed his hands. Letting go.

 _I cannot fight you anymore, Divine Lady._

 _I don't know how each day will be going forward, but I'll try._

His bitterness dissolved. He thought he would always carry some fear with him, but it would not rule him any longer.

 _Not when love is given as a gift._

"You find it difficult, I think, with anything you cannot control." He heard the smile on her voice.

"Yes. You know me well," he rolled his eyes.

"Because I am a lot like you." Her words caught him off-guard, and he jerked his head to stare at her, wondering if she was making fun of him. One glance told him she was not. "For as long as I can remember, others have determined my fate. I despise being out of control," her eyes blazed. "Of having no say in my life. But quite often when I tried to determine the course I took, I ended by hurting myself or others. Because all I saw in front of me were my own wishes. I was selfish."

She thought of ages past, of letting her passion rule her. Of running heedless from lover to lover, simply to satisfy herself. Of staying with Marcas long after she knew the God of War would never be faithful to her. The mortals had suffered because of their tempestuous fights.

 _My stubborn pride. I remember being dragged naked before the Hall as if it were yesterday. Forced to hear words I had deafened myself to hearing._

 _The laughter of the nymphs…_

 _And then later, when Father betrothed me to Victor without my consent, I argued with Him. I insisted on leaving, and not returning until I wanted to return home._

 _I hope Charles and everyone else will not have to pay a price for me wanting to determine my own fate. For at least a short while._

Thomas looked at her in amazement. "You? Being selfish?" He did not see that in her at all. Him, certainly. It surprised him that she would admit to her own weaknesses in front of him. She looked like she had when he had come home to see Daisy and Papa during the fever.

Vulnerable.

"As much as I hate to admit it, yes," she lowered her eyes. "I hope never to cause others to suffer like I did in my younger years."

"You can always pray to the gods for guidance," he said without a trace of irony. He was glad to see her smile.

"You know, I think you mean that."

"I do, for once. Don't tell Papa."

"I would never…though I will tell you to talk to him before you have to leave again," she shifted, giving him some space, as he removed the cloak. It was warm in the sun. "He was worried about you when I left. That storm came up very fast."

"Oh," he muttered, feeling guilty. "I'll apologize to him. I never should have said that about walking to the Underworld…I'm sorry."

"I forgive you. And your father will, too. You might want to add a prayer to the God of the Underworld the next time you offer prayers," she said. "He's not one who I think reacts well to people speaking of him so lightly." They began cleaning around the graves, picking up stray leaves and small branches.

"I haven't offered prayers to anyone for a long time. Not Eala, or any other god." He broke a long stick in half and tossed it into the trees. "Not kneeling in front of an altar, with candles burning, anyway. I'm not like my pious father."

Elsie could not help herself.

"When _was_ the last time you prayed? And to whom?"

"Today. To Eala…actually, I shouted at her," he muttered. "I wouldn't call it praying."

 _Cursing, more like._

She smiled, keeping her eyes on the flowers. "I am sure she's heard all sorts of prayers. Not everyone is in a pious mood when speaking to the Divine."

That was true enough. "What about you? How do you pray?" It occurred to him that he had never heard her prayers.

"Me?" She dug next to a wilted daisy, adding more dirt around it. "I prefer to talk to the gods like they're with me. Like you and I are talking now."

"Papa wouldn't approve." _Or the priestesses._

 _Definitely not the priestesses._

"Despite appearances, your father and I are not always in agreement. I have tried to convince him – and so far, failed – that prayer does _not_ have to be so formal. But he thinks otherwise."

 _Most of the time,_ she thought wryly.

"I'm not sure what to think myself." As much as he had been bold earlier, shouting during the storm, Thomas had a sense that the gods would not always tolerate blasphemy. "Aren't you worried they might punish you for not showing the proper respect, or something?"

"They haven't so far." She finished and brushed her hands off. He stood up and offered his hand to help her up. "Thank you. They haven't punished you for being disrespectful, either. Have they?" Her knees cracked when she stood.

"Not yet." It made him feel a bit better that she was not as rigid as his father when it came to prayers. They walked down the hill towards the road, her cloak draped over her arm.

"My father told me when I was very young," her voice was low as they picked their way through the mud, "That most of the gods would rather be prayed to as if they're friends. He was wrong about many things, in my view," she raised her eyebrows, meeting Thomas's gaze. "But I think he was right about the gods, and prayer."

* * *

The familiar figure of the shepherd stood when they started up the hill. Nosi barreled towards Thomas, jumping up and trying to lick him everywhere.

"Down, girl," he rubbed her head, grinning. "I'm back."

"She is not the only one who's glad," Charles said. He glanced at Elsie, his relief that they both were home palpable in his voice and in his eyes.

 _Is everything all right? With you?_

She squeezed his hand. "All is well," she murmured under her breath, kissing him on the cheek. "I can watch the flock for a while. If you like."

"Yes, now that the rain's gone," he grumbled. His hair was a tangle of curls, and it took all her willpower not to run her fingers through them. Thomas coughed nervously.

"I'm sorry I left so suddenly," he said to his father. "And for what I said. I should've stayed and talked to you."

He wanted to, about things he should have talked about long ago. And about his father's shaky hands. His stomach rumbled.

"I forgive you," Charles said, solemn. "I have said things I regretted as well." He glanced at Elsie, then back at his son.

 _He looks different. Like…a heavy load has been lifted from his back._

"Why don't you sit with me? We can talk for a while. The sheep aren't going anywhere," he tried to joke.

"Later," Thomas said as gently as he could. "I promise. I just need a little time alone."

 _To think about what happened today. Feeling like the goddess was chasing me. Elsie's honesty._

 _Her sadness._

 _Don't think about that now._

"I see." Charles gripped his crook. Both he and his son laughed when Thomas's stomach rumbled louder. "You need some food, too."

"I'll get you something, and then I'll come back and watch the sheep so your father can dry off," Elsie said.

Charles pulled a scroll from beneath his tunic. "One of the temple girls brought this not long ago. It's a letter from Sybil, to both of us, but I thought you would like to read it first."

"Thank you, yes," she took it from him, her eyes gleaming. "Are there any others?"

"Why yes, there is." He grinned and pulled out a second scroll, its seal unbroken. "It's from Edward-"

No sooner had he spoken the words then Thomas snatched it out of his hands. Charles bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"Elsie, could you please bring me something to eat?" Thomas stumbled, nearly running in his haste to get up the hill and to his favorite place near the stream to read his mate's letter.

"Yes," she called after him, though she was certain he didn't hear her. She and Charles laughed at his eagerness.

"Nothing compares to love." The shepherd chortled. "Not even an empty belly." He hugged Elsie, breathing in her scent. The rain brought out subtle hints of roses in her hair. "Are _you_ all right?" He tilted her face up, his eyes meeting hers. "You left suddenly too, and I was worried."

"I am sorry I worried you," she rested her hands on his chest. His heart beat beneath her hands. "But I had to go."

"And you can't tell me who you saw, or what it was about." He thought not, but he had to try. He was reassured by the color in her face, the sun glinting on her bright hair. The peace in her eyes.

"No," the corner of her mouth quirked a smile. "But I found Thomas on the way home."

"I'm glad you did," he whispered. "Very glad." Their lips touched.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Charles felt desire course through him. He ran his hand from her shoulder up her neck to cradle her face.

"Mmmm," Elsie hummed, before breaking their kiss. "Husband, you know I would like to continue, but the sheep need watching and I have a hungry lad to feed." She rubbed his chest, her eyes dark.

He loved the reminder of their ordinary days.

 _This is our life, and I am so grateful to have it._

"Later?" He gasped, swaying a little. He was glad to have his crook to steady him, because at times like that, she made him _very_ unsteady.

"Later," she gave him the smile he loved. He kissed her hand and watched her walk up to the house.


	64. The Protector

**A/N: TW for a slightly disturbing flashback. There's not a great amount of detail, but I'm trying to be careful.**

 **Also out of caution: a touch of M at the end of the chapter. This is a Chelsie story, despite everyone else shoving their way in. And it's been foreverrrrrrrrrrrr. (Not that I blame them.)**

* * *

The low stone wall that marked the border between Charles's land and Drake's – _Jacob's_ land now, the shepherd reminded himself – was in dire need of repair in places. Thomas had been working on it for several days. Charles and Jimmy helped when they were not watching the flocks.

Jacob was very grateful. "I could do it alone, but it would take more time than I can spare right now," he had admitted to Thomas as they removed old worn stones and replaced them with new ones. He helped them as often as he could, in between tilling the fields and tending to his animals.

"Even if it was his father's land, I don't see why he stays on here," Jimmy had muttered one day, after Jacob had brought them chilled wine. "It's too much work to be a farmer. If I were him, I'd sell the place and go somewhere where I could talk to something other than horses."

"This land has belonged to Jacob's family for generations." Thomas had shot back at him. "He stays because he knows it's up to him to care for it. There's no one else. Just him." He had picked up a large flat stone and set it down on the wall, pushing it into place. "It's not that easy to walk away from his family's land. I don't blame him for staying."

Charles had raised his eyebrows in surprise at his son's words, but he had kept silent.

 _You would not have said that once._

He and Thomas finished the last part of the wall one afternoon. They had finished with the larger pieces, and were filling in smaller cracks; mending little fissures that if left untended, would become bigger problems with time.

A strong breeze rustled through the trees along the stream. Charles sighed, feeling sweat bead on his forehead. He was glad of the wind. The days were getting warmer as Midsummer neared.

Thomas frowned. Bending over a part of the wall uphill from his father, he shook his head. He was stripped to the waist. His usually pale skin was pink from the sun and wind.

"Water?" Charles asked, holding out the skin.

"Yes. Thank you." Thomas took a long sip. "What do you think of that?" He gestured beside him.

Charles had to squint. Uphill, they were away from the shade of the trees. His eyes focused and he saw where his son pointed.

There were indentations gouged into the old rock. Three thin ones, and a little to the right of them, four more. Despite the warmth of the day, the shepherd shivered.

"Fingers is what they look like to me," he muttered. "But that's impossible."

He crouched down to examine the wall below the indentations. Tiny cracks extended all the way to the ground. The hair on the back of Charles's neck stood up.

 _As if someone clutched the wall, and it started to crumble in their hands._

 _No one is that strong._

"That's what they looked like to me, too," Thomas took another drink from the water skin and set it down. "Fingers. It's strange. This is the only spot that looks like that." He ran a hand through his hair, and it stood up. "Jacob told me no one has repaired this part of the wall since his grandfather was alive. His grandfather and Drake worked on it down the hill, closer to the stream, but up here it's dry. Jacob says he thought they never bothered with it here, because there was less chance of the water damaging it. But wind can do a lot to stone."

"It certainly can," Charles stood. "Wind, and time."

 _I am seeing things. Drake never touched this part of the wall after Raymond died, and that was before Jacob was born. Nearly twenty years ago._

They scooped up bits of small rock and gravel and filled the indentations, using mud to make them level. The sun would bake the mud dry.

Jimmy waved to them from the meadow as they finished. He called commands to Vyr, who drove the sheep from one spot to another while Freya watched. Alfred's puppy made Charles grin.

 _She is a much harder worker than her sister._

Nosi listened to commands only when she felt like it. She preferred to chase butterflies in the meadow or to snooze in the sun. More often she played with Thomas, or let Elsie cuddle her.

Thomas had managed to teach the willful puppy to sit still. She listened to him the most of anyone – which was maybe half the time.

Charles and Thomas sat along the wall when they were done. The stone felt cool along their backs. They passed the water skin back and forth as birds chirped in the trees and the stream chattered its way down the hill. A few clouds drifted by above their heads. It was very peaceful.

Charles began to whittle a small piece of wood he had been working on. He hummed under his breath.

Thomas drank from the skin, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

 _Now is a good time to talk._

"Elsie told me about your hands. About them shaking," he said. "Why did you not tell me?"

Charles glanced at him. There was no anger in Thomas's eyes. He looked back down at his hands. "At first I hoped that the shaking would pass. That it was just a fleeting thing," he said slowly. "When I realized that it wasn't, I did not want to tell you out of pride," he admitted. "I'm sorry. But I also didn't want to worry you. I wanted to protect you. I'm your father. That's what I do."

"You do it well." Thomas hesitated, then reached out and touched his shoulder. "You can't protect me from everything, you know."

Nodding, Charles concentrated on the figure coming to life in his hands, a small smile on his face. "I can try."

"Did you think I'd see you as weak?"

A lump formed in Charles's throat. "Yes." The grey hairs mixed in between the black ones on his head glistened in the sun.

"I'll never think that," Thomas said with conviction. "You are the strongest man I've ever known." He squeezed Charles's shoulder and sat back against the wall. "Do you remember the wolf in the meadow? The rabid one?"

"Like it was yesterday." Charles whittled the wooden figure, careful not to cut himself. "When I told you to climb the ash tree, you did it at once. You had never obeyed me that quickly before."

Thomas had been very young. It had not been long after Daisy was born.

"I was scared. Anyone could tell the wolf was sick – foaming at his jaws, his limbs quaking. After you lifted me onto the lowest branch and I'd climbed up a little, I remember looking down and seeing him coming towards you." Thomas swallowed at the memory. "I was afraid he'd rip out your throat." He smiled. "But you smashed his head with your crook."

"My legs were faster, and my arms were stronger then. Fortunately."

"Fortunately." They grinned at each other.

"You did not see it, but I was afraid too," Charles said. "I was afraid the wolf would hurt you." He looked into the distance. Jacob drew water from his well and carried it to the barn. "Now, I don't know if I would be able to defend you, Elsie, and the dogs." He set down his knife and the figure, and held up his hands. "I might drop my crook, instead of wielding it like a weapon."

"Have you spoken with Master Richard? Is the shaking that bad?"

"Yes, I spoke with him. No, it's not that bad. When I'm tired, my hands shake more." Charles sighed. "But the older I get, the worse it will be."

"I'll make sure you have enough help," Thomas ran his hand along the stone wall. "Elsie and I both will. Try not to worry about it too much."

"Worrying is part of my nature."

They grew quiet again. Since the day of the storm, Thomas had felt a lot of his guilt seep away. Now a lot of it sprang to the surface. Like a weed with roots that had not been ripped from the ground.

 _This is why you need to talk to him._

"If…if I had been different," he whispered. "A better son, someone like Jacob, or Alfred, you would not worry as much."

Alfred was on his way back to Downton after going home to pay his respects to his deceased father.

Charles's brow furrowed. "'A better son'? What do you mean?"

 _You_ _know_ _what I mean_. Thomas bit his tongue to keep from saying it. "Someone who thinks of his family before himself. Alfred always sends part of his wages to his mum…and Jacob's farming the land, just like his father wanted. He offered to watch the flocks for you on Midsummer. Did he tell you?"

"Yes," Charles was a little confused as to the turn of the conversation. "I told him there was no need to repay us for helping with his wall, but he insisted."

"He won't be alone," Thomas continued. "He's been seeing a girl from Thirsk. She's coming here on Midsummer with her brother. Jacob told Jimmy and Alfred he was going to offer himself to her then."

"Thomas," Charles closed his eyes. He saw clearly what was bothering his boy. "We have talked about this. You are not Alfred, or Jacob, or anyone else. You serve the king and his court, and you do it well. You were _meant_ to do it. Not to be a farmer, or a shepherd-"

"-or a father." Thomas interrupted. His words had the force of a boulder crashing onto the ground. Final. Unmovable.

He rested the back of his head against the wall. "It was different when Daisy was alive. She would've grown up and married, and she and her husband would have lived in our house, and had children and watched the sheep, just like you and our mum, and before you your mum and dad, and your mum's parents before them, and _their_ parents before them, and however long it's been that someone in our family has tended the flocks here. But now there's just me. There won't be anyone following me. You know it's true."

His chest rose and fell as he struggled not to cry.

The air felt thicker.

"Whether your sister lived or not," Charles's heart thumped in his chest, "It has no bearing on _your_ life." The anguish in Thomas's face made him ache. "You should not feel as though you have an obligation to stay here and be a shepherd. I would never want you to feel you had to."

"But it _is_ what you want," Thomas whispered. He sniffed. "I remember the day I told you I liked boys."

"I hope you remember that I told you I loved you."

Thomas nodded. "I also remember you crying that night as you prayed to the Divine Lady." His nose itched. Reaching up, he felt tears on his cheek. "Look, you-you're being kind, and I am grateful for it. I am," he blinked. "But I know you'd be happier if I followed in your footsteps. Became a shepherd. Found a girl, married her. Had a family." Swallowing, he forced himself to look Papa in the eye. "I used to blame you for wanting that life for me. I don't anymore. I just wish…you would be honest and say that's what you wanted."

 _But it's not_ , Charles argued silently. He pressed his lips together. _I only want you to be happy. It is all I ever wanted._

 _Really?_

He remembered the day Thomas had told him. It had not been a complete shock. Alice had never broken their son's confidence, but Charles knew Thomas well enough to suspect the truth.

 _Still, you were heartbroken._

 _Having the truth laid bare in front of you._

 _Be honest._

"Yes," he whispered. "I did want that life for you. I had seen how others treated you – how cruel some people could be." He reached over and put his hand over Thomas's, feeling his son's bent fingers. "I was afraid for you. When you told me…I knew your life would be much more difficult. And that is not something any father wants for his child."

"So you were sad because you were afraid of what my life would be like? That's all?" Thomas asked. It was not that he thought Papa was lying to him, but surely there was more to it than that.

"Not all," sighed Charles. _Tell him all of it._ "Yes, the thought of you growing up and watching the flocks, living in the house our family has built, raising children of your own…I wanted that for you. When you were small, it made me happy to think you would be a shepherd. Like me. As you got older, and you changed, though, so did my hopes for you." He ran a finger along the ground. Searching for the right words. "It makes me sad to think you will never have children, but _not_ for the reason you think."

"Then what is it for?" Thomas's own heart pounded. For too long, neither of them had spoken so openly. He hoped they could continue talking with each other without clashing, as they had so often before. Papa did not look angry. Only sad, and a bit wistful.

Charles rubbed his hands together, ridding them of dirt. "It's for your sake. I know the joy of holding a child of mine in my arms. I wanted you to have that. There's nothing like it in the world."

A lump hardened in Thomas's throat. He thought of Phyllis holding Lily. Of Anna and her secret.

Of Elsie.

He wondered if she had told Papa about their conversation. What she had told _him_.

He did not think she had. Why, he couldn't say.

 _She's not like that. What was said between us, she won't repeat to anyone. Even Papa._

 _Anyway, she said he knows she can't have children. There is no reason for me to mention it._

 _I don't want to hurt him further._

 _Or her._

"I know," he rasped. "I mean, I _don't_ know what it feels like, but I can guess." Giving his father a half-smile, he shook his head. "Maybe it's better this way. No naughty, impertinent grandchildren like me."

Charles laughed under his breath, trying to ignore the whispers of regret in his own mind.

 _No grandchildren at all._

"You were not that bad. As sons go, you were well-behaved. Most of the time." He reached out and ruffled Thomas's hair. "If Edward ever had children, no doubt they would behave _all_ the time."

His eyes twinkled.

Snorting, Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Of course they would! Unlike me, _he_ would make a good father."

It made him feel guilty that his mate would never have that chance. He had dared to bring it up once. But not since.

" _Are you mad!?" Edward spat under his breath. Roland and several of the guards laughed nearby as an autumn rain dripped around them. "What, like I would get some girl with child just to be a father? I couldn't do that. And neither could you." He pulled up the hood on his cloak. "I have thought about it. But it wouldn't be fair. Children deserve a mother and father who love each other."_

 _He reached out, his fingers tracing the stubble on Thomas's jawline. "I love_ **you** _. You are my mate, my man. I don't want anything else."_

"You would be a good father." Papa's voice broke Thomas's reverie. "In a way, you _are_ one."

"What?" Thomas asked, confused. "How?"

"To Master George."

Charles smiled as Thomas stared at him.

His son clearly thought he'd lost his mind. "His father's dead, yes," he stuttered, "But he lives with his grandfather, and the king spends a lot of time with him-"

"Not as much time as he spends with you. Sybil says the boy adores you. He listens to you, even when he disobeys Lady Mary." Charles raised his eyebrows. "There's more than one way of being a father."

 _Sybil thinks of ME as her father,_ he thought, with a surge of warmth for Elsie's daughter.

"Master George will inherit the kingdom one day," Thomas argued. "I'm just a servant."

Even as he said it, he saw the sense in what Papa said.

"You are a servant. But I doubt he sees you as _just_ that," Charles tilted his head. "He's too young right now to say what you are to him, but I am sure he sees you as much more than someone who pours wine for the king."

Thomas sat mulling it over. His father picked up his knife and the unfinished piece of wood, and continued working on it.

 _Maybe Papa's right. Maybe I am more to Master George than just a servant._

His heart swelled a little, thinking of the little boy. The rides he gave him. George talking too fast, tripping over his words as small children often did; the king asking Thomas what his grandson said.

 _Because I understand him better than anyone, except for Lady Mary. And maybe Sybil now._

 _She hasn't known him as long as I have._

Thinking of George made him miss him terribly. He almost laughed, more in wonder what the feeling revealed than anything else.

 _I do love him…and want the best for him._

 _Like a father would._

"What do you think?" Charles asked after a while. He handed the little figurine to his son. Thomas smiled, choking back tears.

It was a miniature Daisy, with a loaf of bread in her hands and a dog at her feet.

"It…it's wonderful." He handed it gently back. "Is it for your altar?"

Charles nodded and tucked it away in the pouch on his belt. "You know-" his voice was soft. Thomas saw he fought his own tears. "-what I want as a father is to see my children happy, and safe, and living lives that honor themselves and the gods. But-" He pressed his lips together.

The pain on his face was clear to see.

"It wasn't your fault Daisy died," Thomas whispered. "Jimmy told me she insisted on going to Jacob's, to say goodbye to May and the others. You could not have stopped her. She would have found a way. She was quite…stubborn, in her own way."

Charles raised his eyebrows. "Like you." They both laughed through tears.

"Do you think you failed her?" Thomas asked. "Because she died?"

"A little," Charles admitted, sighing. "I know I could not have protected her, but it does not keep me from wishing I could have, somehow." His wet eyes found his boy's. Regret lined his face, etching the wrinkles around his mouth deeper into his skin.

"I've failed you more." His voice was barely more than a breath. "You were unhappy for so long, even before your mother died. That day in Downton, when those fiendish children beat you within an inch of your life – _I_ should have been there. I should have defended you then. Instead, when Phyllis told your mother and me what had happened, I could do nothing except watch you suffer."

The surprise on Thomas's face almost made Charles wince.

 _I should have told him what I felt long ago. Maybe the rift between us would not have been so wide, if I had._

* * *

 _He stood in the doorway in shock, trying to understand the words coming from the wheelwright's wife._

 _A crowd of boys…Thomas…hurt…fought…beaten badly…Thomas._

 _Alice gripped his arm, and he put his hand over hers. She was trembling. With fear, or anger, he couldn't tell which._

 _He trembled, too._

 _With both._

" _Take us to him," he said to Phyllis. His voice cracked. Sheep bleated as they went down the hill. Alice paused just long enough to ask Cassandra to look after Daisy. The good-natured older shepherdess did not mind; she was fond of their children. Charles spared a glance at his little girl. She was halfway up the hill towards Cassandra's hut, the great oak tree shading her. She was trying to whistle through a grass stem._

 _ **Innocent,**_ _he thought. His heart ached._ _ **May the gods keep her that way. As long as possible.**_

 _ **Her brother has not been so fortunate.**_

" _You said Master Joseph found him?" Alice asked Phyllis as the three hurried to Downton._

" _Yes," Phyllis gasped, still trying to catch her breath. "Near Martha's house. He came and found me…the matchmaker is away from home, otherwise I know she would have looked after him. I-I wanted to bring him to my house, but-"_

 _She did not finish. Charles and Alice glanced at each other, knowing what the woman could not say._

 _ **Peter would give him another beating, rather than help him.**_

" _-anyway, Master Joseph said he would take him to the temple. Master John found us then. He'd heard the shouts, and some of the dogs barking. He said he'd go with Jo-Master Joseph, I mean."_

 _Charles was glad of that. His blacksmith friend had come home from war with a mangled leg, but he was still a formidable presence._

 _More than Joseph._

 _The village slept in the sun. Several boys were clumped close together near the bridge, talking and laughing together. One of them was telling a story._

" _-he tried to hit me, but-" he swung his head to one side. "I dodged him. It was a weak punch, anyway. Wouldn't have hurt a fly, much less me. He even_ fights _like a girl-"_

 _One of the boys listening saw the three approaching, and hit him on the shoulder. They all went quiet. The storyteller went pale._

" _Have any of you seen Thomas?" Charles asked._

 _He had to work to keep his voice even. The fear in their eyes would have been funny, if he hadn't been so angry._

 _ **Little**_ **swine** _ **…nine, ten of them against one…**_

 _One brown-haired boy, a farmer's son he recognized, licked his lips. "He-he's at th-th-the healer's," he stammered. "The bl-blacksmith and the wheelwright's apprentice…t-took him."_

" _Thank you," Alice said. Charles clenched his fists, but his wife gently took his elbow. He could not resist saying one more thing as they went past the boys._

" _I haven't seen an eye blacked like yours since I came back from the war," he nodded at the purplish bruise around the storyteller's eye. "Whoever hit you must have been strong."_

 _The boy stood up, red coloring his cheeks. "It was a bull," he argued. "It kicked me-"_

 _Charles did not wait to hear whatever story the boy told. He walked on so fast Alice and Phyllis had to trot to keep up with his long strides._

 _ **Cowards, and liars as well-**_

 _All of his anger seeped out of him when they heard the screams from outside Master Richard's hut._

 _A woman held Thomas down on a pallet of straw as the healer examined him. Charles recognized her immediately._

" _Master Shepherd." There was visible anger in the priestess's brown eyes. "Mistress-"_

" _Mum," cried Thomas. Isobel moved aside to let Alice kiss her son. He groaned when she did. "Mum, Mum, it hurts…"_

 _ **By the gods,**_ _thought Charles, thunderstruck._ _ **It's worse than I thought.**_

 _Thomas was covered with scratches and scrapes on his neck and arms. One of the scrapes on his legs still looked fresh. The blood glistened on his skin. The top of his tunic was ripped away, and there were ugly bruises across his thin chest. His face was a welter of bruises. His left eye was swollen shut._

" _Several cracked ribs, with at least one of them broken," Richard said in a low voice. "His right ankle's sprained." The healer's blue eyes smoldered. "They beat him so badly he fainted in Joseph's arms. He woke up when I stretched him out to have a better look…they could have killed him. Look at the bruise on his chest, across his ribs." He pointed. "Someone stomped on him."_

" _What_ happened _?" Alice asked, cradling Thomas's head in her lap. "Why would anyone do such a thing to an innocent boy?"_

" _Does it matter?" Isobel snorted. "Cruelty seldom needs a reason."_

" _I have to try and straighten his fingers," Richard told Charles and Alice. "Else his hand will never be of any use to him. You'll have to hold him down." He gestured to Thomas's right hand. The boy's fingers were crumpled, as though someone had tried to twist them off. Charles's belly heaved._

 _He crouched down on the right side of the pallet and as gently as he could, held his boy still. "You have to be brave," he said. His throat was so tight he could hardly speak. "Master Richard has to straighten your fingers."_

" _Papa," Thomas blinked up at him through his one good eye. Tears stained the dirt on his face. His lower lip was split, and blood trickled down his chin, leaving a red line to his collarbone. "Papa, it hurts," he whimpered. "Make it stop, please…"_

 _Charles bowed his head, tears in his own eyes._

 _ **If only I could.**_

 _Thomas screamed in agony when Richard straightened his fingers. Two on his right hand would never be the way they were before, but he would still be able to use his hand._

* * *

"I should have gone back and beat the lot of them," Charles hissed through his teeth. "Most of them I knew, and the ones I didn't, I found out easily enough who they were. I went to their fathers and demanded they be punished. Not all of them were. I should have seen to it _myself_ , protected you the way I should have-"

"You did," Thomas interrupted. It unnerved him to see Papa so upset, especially over something that had happened years before.

 _I hardly think of it now. I had no idea he still brooded over it._

"You had taught me how to defend myself," he went on. "I gave them the best fight I could. No matter what they told themselves later, most of them never dared to touch me again. A few did, yes," he shifted, stretching out his legs. "But most of them thought they'd taught me a lesson." A smile pulled up the corner of his lips. "And you terrified them. Asher admitted as much to me last Harvest Festival. He said, 'Your fists were hard enough, without worrying about your father might do to me!'"

Charles got to his feet. "Even still, I cannot protect you from everyone who might bring you harm. It is the first responsibility of a father to protect his children…and the fact that I have not done so with you hurts me more than I can say."

"The world is what it is," Thomas said as they hopped over the wall and walked beside the stream down to their house. "I can't change all the people in it, much as I might like to. It would be wonderful if everyone approved of me the way I am, but I know most people won't. I used to worry about it more. Before I knew how many people loved me. Daisy. Elsie. Sybil. Anna. John. Phyllis. Joseph. You."

They stood by the goat pen. A breeze rustled the leaves above their heads.

"Your approval of me matters more than anyone's," Thomas leaned against the trunk of the tree. "Not just for me and Edward's sake, but also about me serving at court. When I first went there, I thought for sure you'd send for me to come home after a year or so. But you never did." He swallowed, and glanced at the house next to them. "I was glad. As much as this place means to me, I belong there."

"I know." Charles put a hand on his shoulder. He blinked, hoping he wouldn't cry. "You have done so well at court. There's little telling how far you might still go. Master Harold thought you might be Steward one day. I know you would be a good one…I know you _will_ be."

Thomas could not hold back his tears. He hugged his father, hot tears spilling out. "That's all I want," he whispered. "To make you proud."

"You already have." Charles lifted his head to look into his eyes. "I am _very_ proud of you. I will always _be_ proud of you. I will always be glad you're my son," he said for emphasis. "No matter what."

They embraced again.

"Thank you, Papa," Thomas whispered. "I promise not to have anything come between us again. All right?" He sniffed, smiling.

"Done. The same goes for me." Charles smiled back. "I notice you didn't say 'I promise not to ever fight again'."

"You know me well." Thomas ran a hand through his black hair.

"I know _myself_ well."

* * *

The days grew longer.

Not long after Alfred had returned, Thomas left to go to the hall north of Downton. He had to help prepare for the arrival of the king and his family. They were traveling early, to reach the village before Midsummer. Guests were expected before the annual festival.

Charles and Elsie thought the house felt empty. They both hoped their children would visit once they were closer to home.

Although there _were_ advantages to having the house to themselves.

Light from the half-moon shone through the window. The couple lay sprawled together, the sound of their kisses and soft moans mingling with the quiet sounds of the night.

Elsie's breath escaped in gasps. "Charles-" she breathed. His name came out a strangled moan. She arched her back, willing them closer.

Her husband could hardly breathe. Or think. All was her, everything, the movement of their dance, the feel of her legs gripping his torso, the way she spoke his name. He kissed her again, hard. Her mouth tasted like rich wine.

Her fingers pressed into his back, sliding through his sweat. "I love you," she purred into his ear.

He yelled, his body taking over. She felt so good, _so good_ , his woman, his mate, his wife who spoke her love to him while in the act of love.

 _I love you_ , he thought, as she writhed beneath him, ever more frantic. His heart exploded when she cried out. Her voice rose higher.

She trembled in his arms after, a sheen of sweat visible on her forehead even in the dim moonlight.

"Are you cold?" he asked. She did not feel so. She shook her head.

"I want you," she whispered when she caught her breath. "I know I've only just had you, but it's been so long, and – husband, I _want_ you. I missed you." She sounded near tears.

 _I missed you too. This. Us._

His body would not allow him to do as he wanted. But there were other ways of giving her pleasure.

So he did.

Her cries were louder than before. She yanked his hair so hard he was sure she had pulled out a large chunk of it.

Sliding up her body, he kissed her forehead, running his fingers through her hair. When he kissed her lips, he realized she was crying.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing. You. You make me so happy," she murmured beneath his chin. Her breath tickled his neck, where his pulse beat with the rhythm of his heart. She wrapped her arms around him tightly. "I'm happy for us, happy for you that you have made peace with Thomas, happy for him that _he_ is at peace. I don't know why I'm crying," her voice broke.

He thought he did. As much as he felt calm, happy, at peace (and how could he not, with his wife in his arms?), he felt like crying, too.

"There is nothing wrong with missing her," he whispered. "She will always be with us. Now, and forever."

Elsie snuffled against his chest. "I know. Dear girl…our sweetest girl." She reached up and felt wetness on Charles's face. "And now I have made _you_ cry. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Our life has grief, and sadness, and joy and happiness."

Charles cried, letting her hold him. After talking with Thomas, he knew he did not always have to be strong.

He was well aware that his wife bore much of his sadness. As he did hers.

 _Our lad is nearly a man. He can bear some of the weight of your grief._

 _Perhaps it is time to let him protect you. A little._

He wondered if Thomas knew he would have no more children. Sybil had been firm when she spoke of serving at court, and they all knew what that meant. Though of course Thomas did not know the actual reason for his stepsister's choice of solitude.

He wondered what Elsie had said to Thomas. If _she_ had told him she would have no more children. Thomas had been devastated talking about having no family (at least, the kind of family most people had) and Elsie had said hardly anything when Charles told her of their conversation.

 _If he does know, or suspect it, he is saying nothing. He does not want to hurt you. Or Elsie._

 _You see?_

 _He's already looking out for you._

 _My dear boy._

"I believe," Charles heard her say before he drifted off to sleep, "Our life together has more joy than sadness. If I had known all that would happen, I would choose it again. I would choose this family. I would choose the lonely shepherd at the shrine. You."

"I'm glad I did not frighten you off," he mumbled sleepily. His heart lifted when she laughed.

"I thought I frightened _you_."

"Just enough to entice me." The days after she had told him she was a goddess felt like a bad dream. The woman in his arms was more real than anything else. "It is impossible to stay away from you."

"I'm glad," she whispered. He heard her sigh, snuggling further into his chest.

 _Her favorite place._

The stars shone near the moon, the tiny lights twinkling above the house. They whispered to each other.

* * *

 **A/N: The bit at the beginning, with the rock wall, is a nod to something that happened way back in Chapter 29. Charles is wrong here: there _are_ some who are strong enough to break rock with their bare hands.**

 **About the flashback – Thomas was about ten years old when he got beat up. It's not mentioned in this chapter, but the reason why the boys turned on him was because he got the wrong impression from one of them (the storyteller) and kissed him. To Charles, remembering that day is less about** _ **why**_ **his son was beat up and more about him not being there to defend him. I hope that makes sense.**

 **Many, many, MANY thanks to all of you for sticking with this story! And major thanks to TgrLady. Your reviews give me life. And encourage me to keep updating before you catch up. :)** **Any and all reviews are wonderful!**

 **I feel like things have slowed down for a bit in this story, but I never felt comfortable with rushing through the trauma of Daisy's death and Thomas working through being Thomas. Events are about to become more interesting. Trust me.**

 **Up next: A look in on our favorite Blacksmith. :-O**


	65. The Watcher

**A/N: Sigh. I REALLY want to write shorter chapters, but too many characters, and too much stuff going on make it practically impossible.**

 **This is a reminder that I am not an expert on Greek mythology. At this point, this crazy story is a mishmash of that, Downton Abbey characters, several other mythological elements (both Greek and non), and my own imagination. I don't own Downton, either. In case anyone still thought I did.**

 **This is part of a poem I saw on Tumblr. It seemed to be written about the Blacksmith in this fic, patient god that he is.**

 _ **Serene, I fold my hands and wait,**_

 _ **Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;**_

 _ **I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,**_

 _ **For lo! My own shall come to me…**_

 _ **The stars come nightly to the sky;**_

 _ **The tidal wave unto the sea;**_

 _ **Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,**_

 _ **Can keep my own away from me.**_

 **-"Waiting", by John Burroughs**

* * *

"Whoa!" cried Daniel. Victor looked up just in time to see the boy jump backwards. There was a loud _whoosh_ of air, followed by flames leaping up. John knocked his crutch over as he hurried to smother the leaping fire.

"Nothing to worry about," he said. Andy grabbed his arm when he stumbled, keeping him from falling into the burning-hot forge. "Thank you," he grinned. "Anna would be upset if I went home with burns."

"What happened, lads?" Victor asked, frowning. "The fire could've burned out of control. You must be careful!"

Daniel looked down, chastised, but Andy glared at him. " _I_ know that."

"Do you?" the hidden god snapped. "I've seen you blow too much air when you're building the fire. Fire is a tool, not a toy."

 _And a symbol of your temper, your inmost being._

 _Like me._

"So what if I made a mistake?" Andy asked defiantly. "No one was hurt. I didn't do it on purpose!"

"Of course not," John stepped in front of him. "But you do need to be careful. Master Joe is right."

Andy glared at the two older men, but said nothing. John sighed.

"Watch him for a while. Daniel, you and I will tend to the fire."

Sullen, Andy sat down on a barrel. Victor leaned over once again, tapping at the bright red dagger.

The former shepherd's dark moods and lightning tempers were affecting all of them. John had been more than patient, saying some of his behavior was expected. Daniel had had a few bursts of temper since Toby had died.

But Andrew reminded the Master of Fire of volcanoes that had long lain dormant, before suddenly erupting.

He well knew how destructive they could be.

The trick was, how to get him to control his anger without exploding.

The lad's anger didn't fit him. It was obvious to Victor that Daisy's death had affected him deeper than perhaps he even knew. Someone needed to talk to him. And, he thought with an inward sigh, he was likely the best person to try.

He hoped Andy would listen.

"Do you see?" He lifted the dagger with the tongs. "It needs to be hot enough so you can mold the point correctly, but not so hot the hammer will break off the end."

"I see it," the lad muttered. His eyes were fixed on the dancing flames.

"Come closer, so you can see the detail." Victor stared at him until he obeyed. Andy nodded at the work. Victor plunged the dagger into the cold water, satisfied.

Setting the small blade aside, he wondered what to say.

 _Best be honest. Even if he gets angry._

"Tell me the truth, lad," he said, mindful of John and Daniel nearby. The blacksmith was showing the younger boy how to rake through the coals. "Do you want to be here? At the forge?"

Andy opened his mouth, then shut it. His dark eyes were as defiant as ever, but his shoulders slumped. "No." He shuffled his feet and studied the dirt floor. "But this is as good of a place as any."

"If you don't want to be here, why not go back to the shepherd? He seems reasonable. He'd likely take you back." It irked Victor to give Charles any compliment, but he could not deny the man's integrity and good will.

"I can't go back there."

"Andy," Victor eyed him steadily, "you must face your grief. Running away from it won't help you-"

"Don't you think I know that?" Andy burst out. John and Daniel glanced over at them. To Victor's relief, the blacksmith gestured for Daniel to pick up the buckets. They walked out of the forge in the direction of the well.

Andy sat back down on the barrel. He clutched his hair, his eyes darting around the forge. "It's with me all the time," he whispered. "… _she's_ with me all the time. When I wake at night, I see her face. Staring into the fire, she's there. Always there, but I can't reach her. I can't…" his voice trailed off.

"I am sorry," Victor sat down on a smaller barrel next to him. "Truly, I am. But you'll go mad if you don't find a way to let her go."

As he said it, he could have laughed at the irony of his giving such wisdom.

"How do I do that?" The dark-haired lad muttered. "I thought maybe if I left, if I was somewhere different, I wouldn't miss her so much. I should have gone home. Away from Downton." He shook his head.

"If you had, she would've followed you. There's nowhere to run far enough where the memory of the dead won't find you."

 _Or the Divine._

Andy was silent. His head was down, his fingers curled around his knees.

"You loved her, didn't you?" Victor asked softly.

The lad nodded, his shoulders shaking.

"She was a sweet girl," the disguised god continued. "A kind girl. With a bit of fire in her, if I might say so."

Rubbing his nose, Andy looked up at him. His eyes were red. "Yeah. She was. She did…I loved her," he said, his voice as fragile as rotted wood. "And she loved me. It isn't _fair_."

"No one ever said life was fair, lad." Victor sighed.

 _I know. More than you can ever understand._

For the first time, he thought his own troubles were a good thing. It gave him an insight into the poor boy's misery.

"For as long as you live, you'll remember her love. Her kindness. The way she made you feel. Carry those memories with you, but don't try to carry _her_. She would not want you to be stuck in the past."

Victor was not sure if Andy heard a word he said. Or if he made sense.

 _Do you believe the words coming out of your mouth?_

"Maybe not." Andy's chin wobbled. "Nobody knows what she would've thought, though, because she's gone." He glared at Victor. "You make it sound like it's easy to-to remember her, but not to feel like she's following me around!"

"The last thing it is, is easy," Victor told him. "But you have to try. Otherwise you'll never be able to get on with your life. Do you want to be angry forever?"

"No."

"Good. When you're angry, you drive other people away. And I don't think you want that."

Andy covered his face with his hands. Victor felt a twinge of guilt.

 _He's broken. Be gentle with him._

"I know how you feel. A little," he heard himself say. "I envy you."

" _Envy_ me?" Andy's eyebrows went up as he rubbed his nose, an expression of utter disbelief on his face. "Why?"

For a moment, Victor struggled as to say anything more. Something in the boy's dark eyes made him want to tell the truth. To himself, not just to someone else.

 _Athena would agree._

He smiled. It did not reach his eyes. "Not everyone is as fortunate as you," he grunted. A coughing spasm interrupted him, and he turned his head while it passed, feeling heat in his chest. "The one you loved, loved you back. Anyone who saw the two of you knew it."

The corner of Andy's mouth twitched. "Have you ever…loved someone?" He sounded skeptical.

Victor did not blame him. He knew he was not a usual character in the love tales storytellers told.

"Yes, I loved someone," he whispered.

 _From the moment I saw her, ages ago. She has never left my heart since._

 _What would I give to receive a smile from her?_

He remembered watching Andy and Daisy dancing at John and Anna's wedding, through the fire. How happy Daisy was.

"Who was she? Er – was she a woman? I don't mean to be rude-"

Andy's question made Victor snort with laughter. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then scratched his cheeks and chin. His beard itched in the heat. "Yes, she was a woman. A woman so beautiful, nothing and no one's come close to her since." His eyes were far away. "No one."

 _No one ever will._

"I wanted to make her mine, you see," he told the apprentice. "She – did not think as well of me as I did of her. She preferred to leave."

 _And she met someone else,_ he thought. _She loves him the way I hope she will love me._

 _Someday._

At least, he was almost certain Eala loved the shepherd. He had never heard her say it, but all the signs were there.

Something of what he felt must have showed on his face. Stricken, Andy pushed hair out of his eyes. "I'm sorry, Master Joe."

Victor shifted on the barrel. He felt uncomfortable probing at his own feelings at the best of times. "Yes, well, it happened and there's no changing it," his voice grew brusque again. "Never mind about me. I'm old and I've learned to live with it…you'll do much better than I have. For one, you have more friends. Your family cares about you. And believe me, it makes a difference that you can remember the good times with Daisy. I'm sorry she died so young," he patted Andy's knee awkwardly. "Truly, I am. If…you ever want to talk, come find me. Or John. He's not a bad 'un to talk to, either."

"Thanks." The lad was quiet, his brow furrowed. It was clear he had a lot on his mind. Victor was glad. It was better Andy thought more about what he did, rather than react first.

"Neither of us mind, if you get angry from time to time – we've both done that. Just try not to yell at Daniel. He doesn't deserve that," he got up, eager to get back to work. "He misses Toby more than he says. He was like another brother to him."

"I know."

They were both hammering away at new swords when John and Daniel came back. The blacksmith raised his eyebrows at the old man. Victor shrugged.

 _We will see if he gets better. I hope so._

* * *

The shadows lengthened through the trees like long dark fingers stretching on the ground. The sun hung heavy and orange in the western sky. The horizon looked like it was ablaze.

Victor shuffled along the dirt path to the western edge of Downton. The scent of sulfur grew stronger as he got nearer to home. He slept in a hut on an abandoned farmer's croft, near the cave with the odorous bubbling spring.

He would have liked to stay longer at the forge. But lately John had been going home earlier, despite the lengthening days. The man was eager to see more of his wife, he said. Victor smiled.

 _I am glad the Divine Lady granted_ _one_ _of Anna's prayers._

He reminded himself that when either John or Anna told him their news, that he must look surprised. He grinned wider.

 _That might be difficult, but it won't be difficult at all to look delighted!_

Thinking about his mortal friends, he did not hear the soft hooting of an owl, high in the branches of a mature oak tree.

He caught three fish at the spring, and as the daylight faded, he fried them over a fire outside his hut. Dancing light from insects flickered through the trees.

He thought of the words he had said to Andy about Daisy.

Athena had given him similar wisdom long before.

" _You have never let go of Eala. She ended her romance with the Messenger, and now her liaison with Marcas is nearing its end. But why do you continue to hope? She has never looked at you that way. I do not say these things to hurt you, but to help you. You know as well as I that the Goddess of Love cannot be_ forced _to love another."_

The fish sizzled, slightly charred. Victor frowned.

 _True. But that is different than Andy's sorrow._

 _Eala is promised to me._

 _ **Promised**_ _._

 _She gave her word to me. To her father. She cannot break her vow._

 _I am a god. She is a goddess. Death means nothing to us; there is nothing that will separate us._

It was becoming harder to think of her being so close by. He had returned to the mortal realm for John and Anna's sake, but also to try and see what Eala was doing. She was as elusive as she had been the previous year. She gave away nothing through the fire, whether she was baking bread in her hearth fire or watching the flocks.

Thoughts of her continued to linger with Victor as he sated his hunger.

Despite Athena's wisdom, he knew marriage to the Beautiful Lady alone would not be enough for him. It may have been once. But no longer. His heart whispered that he hoped for too much, but another voice argued against it.

 _Married forever…I can win her in time. She_ will _know my heart. My love for her._

He wanted to know her love. Like he had seen among the mortals. The rapport between John and Anna, the ease between Phyllis and Joseph. To see Eala smile at him and to hear her laugh would be bliss in itself.

More still, to feel the touch of her lips on his. Her kiss freely given. Her, in his arms…

He groaned aloud.

It was well-nigh impossible to force mortals to love others they were not inclined to. How much more true it was of the Goddess of Love!

And yet he yearned for her love. To give it, and to have it gifted back to him. He remembered well the one glimpse he had had of his betrothed in the mortal realm. Her laughing in the meadow with the strange youth. The way she glowed; how happy she was.

 _Is it so wrong that I desire her love? That I want her? She will be my wife. Surely she would prefer happiness to misery._

 _I will do anything I can to make her happy._

He tried to shove aside the image of the shepherd, though the man clung to his thoughts like sparks in a dying fire.

"He'll die soon enough," Victor growled to himself as he washed his hands and spearing knife in the spring. "Whether it is ten years, or thirty. Mortals do not last. It matters not how much he loves her, or what she feels for him. He will go to Hades, and she will return home. To her own people. To me. The shepherd may think he understands patience, but he does not." His reflection in the rippling water was resolute. "I will wait."

 _I would wait an eternity for a moment of her love._

It was tempting to go and see the goddess again. But the risk of getting caught - especially by the dogs - kept him away.

Scrubbing bits of fish off his knife, he was so preoccupied he broke it in half. He grunted in frustration and set the pieces aside. He would have to mend it when no one else was at the forge. John would wonder how he'd broken it.

To ease his frustration, he sifted through the rocks outside his hut. He picked up one that, despite its size, weighed as much as a gold brick.

Imagining it as the shepherd's head, he crushed it into dust in between his fingers.

 _Were it not for Eala, I would have no argument with the man. He is pious. More than most mortals._

A white owl with grey-flecked wings landed on a tree branch that hung over his little fire.

"Your thoughts are loud, my friend."

Victor startled at the sound of the voice, and jumped up, barely missing bashing his head against the stone doorway of his hut. The owl fluttered down towards him. Halfway to the ground, it was wreathed in gold. An instant later, Athena appeared before him.

"My old friend," he sighed.

She held out two goblets.

"Wine?"

"Thank you." He took one and gestured to the ground. "Please, sit."

She sat on a withered tree stump next to the fire and drank half her goblet at once. "I see you broke your knife. Again."

"How long have you been watching me?" He asked grumpily, sitting next to the fire. The edge of his temper was taken off by the wine.

 _Mmm, Dion's finest vintage._

"Long enough." She finished off her wine and set her goblet down, then took off her helmet. "You tread a dangerous path."

"Hardly," Victor took another sip. Even in mortal form, he knew what she was thinking. "I go nowhere near the shepherd's house. He cannot read my thoughts. Nor can she. Not while she is hidden among the mortals. It does no harm to think about either of them."

 _More about her._

Athena, as ever, was blunt. "Thinking, no. But you desire the Goddess of Love, and your hunger for her could easily flame out of control. You would be wise to leave. Sooner, rather than later."

"No." His eyes glowed. "I only just got back. John needs my help, he's got a new apprentice, and the king's soldiers will arrive soon for the summer. And Anna is with child-"

"Do you care for your friends?" The Wise Goddess got to her feet. Her eyes and armor shone in the light of the fire. The daylight was almost gone. "If you truly do, then you need to think about what is best for them. Not for you."

"I am," he protested, swallowing the last of his wine. "I can't leave them like I did last summer. They deserve better from me." He slammed down the goblet. It sank into the earth as if he had thrown it into water. "What is this really about, Thea? Why are you here?"

 _If you only came here to lecture me, leave._

She went still, her eyes not leaving his. "You may have been seen," she finally said. Her voice was so quiet he had to lean closer to hear her. "Not all in the Divine Realm are friendly towards you."

"That is nothing new," he shot back. Several sparks snapped in the fire. "The only one I worry about is the King, and you would have said right off if _He_ knew I was here. Most of the rest don't notice one way or the other. Why should they care if I take mortal form from time to time?"

"Would you care if the Messenger knew you were here? _He_ would certainly find it interesting."

Victor's eyes widened. "Does he know?" Though the evening air was warm, he felt a sudden chill.

 _Errand Boy would waste no time telling his old friend where I am._

Having witnessed it once before, he could picture Eala's wrath. The thought filled him with both terror and an irrational lust. Try as he might to stifle it.

 _You know it does no good to want what isn't yet yours.*_

His blood crackled, like air just before a lightning strike.

Athena rolled her eyes. She took her helmet and filled it with water from the spring, and dumped it over the Master of Fire's head. It sizzled from the heat of his skin.

"This is what I mean," she huffed, filling her helmet again and dousing him with it. Water poured off Victor's head, boiling on the ground. "No, the Messenger is _not_ aware you are here. He is one of the few I am sure does not know. It is others who worry me."

Victor shook his head, flinging searing droplets of water around them. He wiped his face with his tunic. His friend's drenching cooled him enough for him to think. "I would think the Messenger above anyone else would know," he said. "He usually knows where everyone is."

"The King has been keeping him busy. Sending love notes to more than one nymph. And the Queen is, as ever, eager to find out who His latest conquests are."

"What do They have to do with me? If it matters nothing to Them where I am, then there's no one else to trouble yourself about." Victor reached down and dug into the soft earth. The boiling water had softened the ground and exposed the goblet. He pulled it out, shaking it free of dirt.

The Wise Goddess sat once more, her helmet at her feet. Her lips were in a thin line. She held her hands together, searching for words. "Do you know who sent the thunderstorm earlier this spring?"

A line appeared between his eyes. "No. Only that it was not sent as a warning to me."

The torrential rain had come suddenly, he remembered. He had been busy trying to keep the forge's fire going.

"You know I have no way of knowing for certain," he told her. "But you do."

"That is the trouble," she said steadily. "I do _not_ know. And I have been unable to discover an answer."

For Athena not to find an answer she sought, was worrying to say the least.

"I did not think it was the King," he whispered, studying the fire. "Perhaps I was wrong."

"It was not. His lightning and thunderbolts were there, to be certain, but none of His wrath." She bit her lip, thinking. "Eala herself had a hand in it, though she used it for her own purposes. Nothing to do with you. But there are only a few who I think could have _sent_ it."

"Who?" Victor thought back to the day of the storm.

 _A hard, pounding rain, one that softened the earth but did not harm it. Thunderbolts that rumbled, lightning that ripped through the sky._

"It felt a bit like mischief of Peter's," she said.

"Would the Sea-God send a storm so far from the sea?" Victor asked. _There was enough water from the sky to come from there._

"You're thinking like a mortal." A small smile appeared on her lips. "The people in Downton may think of the sea as being many days' journey away, but for the gods it is not far at all."

"True." He built up the fire. "I suppose Peter could have done it. He gets bored with raising storms over water where there are few mortals to frighten. Who else? You do not think he sent it alone."

Shaking her head, she began to sharpen the point of her spear. "It makes little sense, but I thought perhaps the Goddess of the Harvest could have sent it. She's certainly powerful enough. The King would let her borrow His thunderbolts, and if she wished to send a message to her friend, it would be a way to do so."

"Why not take mortal form and come here herself? She was here last Midsummer."

"That would seem more likely." Athena thrust the spear into a nearby rock, splitting it in two. "But I cannot be sure she has visited Eala in recent days. I have others I am trying to watch, others who would harm mortals and cause mischief among the gods."

Victor sucked in a breath. "You think your _brother_ sent the storm."

She continued sharpening her spear, and he felt a dread that had not come upon him in several thousand years.

"But – but why?" he whispered hoarsely. "Marcas was pleased when the King announced my engagement to Eala. He knew she did not want it, and he enjoyed seeing her openly spurn me. He has long since finished with his former lover…why would he send her a warning?"

 _I would have known if it was sent to me._

 _She would have known if it was for her sake._

"I do not know. It isn't like I could ask him. And I cannot be sure he did send the storm, or who was its recipient," Athena tapped the end of her spear against her helmet. "As I said, there are few who could have done it. There was a subtlety about it that disturbs me."

Victor felt his dread ease. "The God of War is not subtle at all."

She quirked a grin, looking up at him. "He is as subtle as an earthquake."

"And the Harvest Lady and Sea-God are as subtle as hurricanes. No doubt Peter would find that a compliment. Beryl would not." Victor chuckled under his breath. They were quiet, as crickets chirped in the trees behind them.

"I fear it was Marcas," Athena said. "Though the storm bore little of his usual marks. But he is stirring up trouble, both in Crowborough and near the borders of Hexham. I saw him," she leaned her head against her spear, "And his sons. They were off the coast of Hexham. He spoke to me."

"He spoke to _you_?" Athena and Marcas may be sister and brother, but the two rarely spoke, Victor knew. "What did he say?"

"For the most part, he boasted of inspiring bands of outlaws that harass innocent people. As if that is something to boast of," she snorted. "As he left, though, he smiled and said, 'Sweet sister, do not think you are the only one among the gods who is wise.'"

Blinking, Victor rubbed his face. "He has often said similar things. He loves to boast, and he thinks he is cleverer than he really is. If the Messenger had told you the same, there might be a shred of truth in it."

"There _was_ a shred of truth to what he said." Athena's eyes were troubled. She stared into the fire. "I know my brother. I know when he lies to me."

"He's planning something. Against you." It was beginning to frustrate Victor that he could not _see_ what was going on. "Was the storm meant for you, then?"

"Maybe. If only there was someone else to mark what he is doing, other than me. I cannot be certain as to what he has planned. You know the King will not interfere until it is far too late, and-"

"-and He would expect you or me to contain Marcas. As has happened before," Victor finished. He raised an eyebrow. "This is why you came to see me. Not out of concern for my mortal friends, or worry that I might let my own fire overcome me, in regards to Eala. You want me to come home."

"The mortals' fate concerns me just as much as it does you. And I know you, my friend – as much restraint as you have, it is a dangerous thing for you to be so close to your betrothed. It is like setting a lit torch on dry grass, and hoping it does not catch fire." She sighed. "But yes, I would like you to come back. I need another's eyes to help watch my brother."

Everything she said was true. Yet something else nagged at him.

"Why not ask your niece? She would be a far better watcher than I." _Especially as I would be watching for her mother in my forge's fire._ "And I trust you would not tell her where I've been."

"Of course not." She stood up, twirling her spear. "Harmony is busy with her husband now, else I would ask her. I am not sure it would be a good thing for her to keep watch on Marcas – he knows when she is nearby."

"She could still help you," he said, unconvinced. "I am surprised you haven't asked her."

Athena gazed up at the sky. Above the trees, stars were visible. "I have reasons. One being I am not entirely sure that Marcas _is_ plotting against me; if he is not, I would rather be certain as to my adversary before endangering my niece."

"As opposed to me, who you feel no need to protect," he teased. He was glad to see her smile. "I understand. I do want to stay in Downton for a while – can you blame me?" he asked. "I would hate to leave my friends as suddenly as I did last summer."

She nodded. "You are right. That would only make them suspicious. Other times when you took mortal form, you stayed for years."

Victor stood beside his friend. The night was quiet, except for a soft breeze blowing through the tops of the trees. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted. "All of what you said makes me think the one to watch is your brother," he crossed his arms, "I am glad he is keeping his mischief far to the south of here. For John and Anna's sake."

"Yes. I am as well." She picked up her helmet. "But the storm was here. In the kingdom of Grantham, in Downton."

The reminder made him wary. "Let's hope there is not another," he said. "Whoever sent it, and to whom, let us hope the message was received and the messenger was satisfied." He clasped Athena's outstretched hand. "I will be cautious. About Eala. I promise. And I will watch for any signs of spies around here."

"See that you do. I will look for your return. In the meantime, I will be as vigilant as I can."

The Wise Goddess gave him another smile, then walked off into the darkness beyond his fire. He heard the soft fluttering of owl's wings.

Sitting by his fire, he gazed into its depths.

 _Who sent the storm? Was it Marcas? If not, then who? Why?_

It was unlike Athena to worry. Or to brush off the suggestion of Harmony. Her niece was one of the best guards among the gods. In some ways, she was better than him, the Master of Fire.

He was distracted from his musing by a figure in the fire. He swallowed, feeling the heat beneath his skin. It would do no good for him to burst into flames and reduce his tunic to ashes. Fixing a broken knife was one thing; John and the lads would surely notice if he arrived at the forge naked.

But oh, it was difficult to keep the heat contained.

 _Eala._

She had her back to the fire as she talked with someone. One of the apprentices, he guessed. The light made the curve of her hips more visible in the darkness.

"… _ram won't run off," she said. "Ve is here, and Nosi too." A puppy ran to her and nuzzled her foot, obviously wanting to be picked up. She smiled and picked up the animal. "You little dear," she cooed, tenderly holding the little dog. "Well, if you won't help watch the flock, you can help keep me awake tonight."_

 _Whoever she was talking to said something. The goddess laughed. "If she falls asleep, I won't wake her! You know me and the Master well. We spoil her, I know. Good night, James."_

Before she had fully turned around the face the fire, Victor hastily blew into it, obscuring her view. He knew he could watch her through the flames. So could she.

If she knew he was watching.

* * *

 _Athena raced across the night sky, in between the stars, underneath the moon._

 _It hurt to lie to Victor._

 _And it was a lie._

 _Not about the storm, or her worries about others finding out about him in Downton, alas. If only she had been exaggerating her fears._

 ** _There was a whisper of malice in the wind as the storm raged..._**

 _She had lied about her niece._

 _It was difficult to hide truths from the God of Fire. Because they were friends, and trusted each other. Had he been almost anyone else, she would have had no guilt over obscuring the truth._

 _She finally came to a stop near her favorite place. The city on the bay slept as soundly as the village far away._

" _Harmony," she whispered. Moonlight danced the water._

 _She knew her brother's daughter had taken mortal form. For how long, she did not know, but she was sure Harmony knew of her mother's marriage. And if Harmony knew, then the Messenger did._

 _ **Eala, Harmony, the Messenger. Beryl and her consort, and their son, the Inventor of the Plow.**_

 _ **Do they not see the danger?**_

 _ **If**_ _ **I**_ _ **know of Eala and her shepherd, who else knows?**_

* * *

 **A/N: * "Lust wants whatever it can't have."** _ **Nil magis amat cupiditas, quam quod non licet.**_ **~Syrus,** _ **Maxims**_


	66. Whispers at Night

**A/N: THIS IS THE FIRST OF TWO CHAPTERS POSTED TONIGHT. READ THIS BEFORE YOU READ CHAPTER 67, PLEASE. IF YOU DON'T, I WILL BE FORCED TO CONTINUE WRITING EXCESSIVELY LONG CHAPTERS WITH NO CHELSIE.**

 **PLEASE SPARE ME THE PAIN.**

 **More stuff going on away from our Chelsie. I don't like to take the focus off of them, but there's a lot going on. More characters, stuff actually happening. Once I've caught you all up to date on other people, I can get back to my favorite couple. In the meantime…**

 **In canon, Ethan was Ethan Slade. In** _ **Winter**_ **, he doesn't get on Charles's bad side, but he doesn't quite impress the right people, either. He appeared once before now, in an early chapter. Not that I expect you all to remember every detail in this far-too-long story. Some details are more important than others. :-D**

 **Dear readers, I hope I am not confusing you too badly. The thing to remember is that while both Tom and Athena know more of what's going on, neither of them can see everything. Tom knows things that Athena doesn't (he's more aware of what was going on during the massive thunderstorm), and she knows things he doesn't (namely, that Victor is in human form).**

 **You all know more than both of them.**

* * *

A crowd of young men from the court were at the king's hall when Thomas arrived one sticky afternoon. For a moment, he wondered why he saw no girls.

 _Surely they can air out the place and prepare it just as well as we can._

"Thomas!" A sandy-haired youth met him at the wooden gates. "I thought you would come tomorrow!"

Thomas waved the small scroll in his hand. "I thought I should come and help as soon as I could. If the king arrived early, and I wasn't here-"

"Oh, that won't happen," his companion laughed. "Master Henry's last scroll said the court would be traveling another three days yet."

"It's better to be prepared, Ethan," Thomas had to struggle not to roll his eyes. "I am surprised to see you here."

 _He wanted to come here last summer, but he was left behind at the palace._

Ethan puffed out his chest. "Master Henry said with more guests coming, I was needed more here than up north."

"Naturally," Thomas said, his voice dry. They walked together into the small courtyard. Boys and young men were busy building another shelter against the high walls. "Will that be for servants?"

Nodding, Ethan pointed. "The larger one will be for guards and soldiers. The smaller one will be for us – unless there are so many servants we end up sleeping outside."

"Is that why there's only lads here?" Thomas did not want to ask, but his curiosity demanded it. "I would have thought there would be some of the girls here as well. Cleaning the queen's rooms, and such."

"Ah." Ethan grinned. "The king didn't want to risk it. He wanted all the women at court to be safe, so none of them were sent ahead."

It irked Thomas that the other lad knew something he did not. And that Ethan was aware of it. He crossed his arms. "I see. Well, I hope _someone_ thought to air out the family's rooms at least. They've been closed up since the beginning of autumn."

Ethan's face fell. "I-Master Henry mentioned it, yes, but I-I was busy helping cut branches for the shelters."

Turning without a word, Thomas headed towards the stairs that led to the balcony around the upper floor.

 _Just as I thought. I will see for myself._

 _Edward would have been more useful – both to cut branches, and to listen to Master Henry's instructions._

Ethan's arms were good enough to pour wine, but not to carry and chop trees. Thomas felt his heart skip at the thought of Edward.

"I wonder," he said, mindful of Ethan huffing behind him as he strode up the steep stairs, "why the Master did not send Edward ahead of the court as well."

"He's been looking after Master George." Ethan panted, leaning against the double doors of the queen's rooms. "Since you were away. Lady Mary wanted him to stay with the family while they were on the road."

With a screech, the doors came open when they pushed them. Thomas coughed, his eyes watering, and Ethan sneezed twice, violently.

The air was musty inside. There were cobwebs on the ceiling, and in the corners. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust. "Well," Thomas coughed, waving away the dust in front of his face, "I'm glad _I_ looked in here."

He got Ethan and another lad to help him clean the rooms. Both spent all of the rest of the day, and much of the next going up and down the stairs, hauling water. Thomas was not satisfied until the stale air was gone and the floor and walls gleamed as though they were new. He did much of the sweeping and scrubbing, just to be sure.

They opened the king's rooms as well, and rooms where Lady Mary and other members of the family stayed. Ethan balked when Thomas moved on to smallest rooms at the far end, near the outer wall. The afternoon air shimmered.

"Those are just servant's rooms." His voice had an edge of a whine on it. "I say we wait until the morning, and finish then." He looked over the balcony, towards the river. "It sure is a nice day for swimming."

They could hear shouts from some of the lads who were doing just that. Thomas had let the other boy go.

"Let's finish first." Thomas was firm. "Just because these rooms aren't for the family, does not mean they matter less."

Ethan's shoulders slumped, but he helped sweep out the last rooms.

Thomas placed lilacs in the windows when they were done. "There," he told Ethan as the two made their way across the quiet courtyard to the well. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" He let him drink first.

"I guess not," Ethan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I guess that's why the king favors you so much. Because you work hard."

"Maybe." As much as Thomas would have liked to hear more praise of himself, he did not want to appear to crave it. "The king has his own reasons. I just try to serve him the best I can. You work hard, and you'll rise in his favor, too."

"They talk about you all the time." Ethan's voice grew quiet. "The family, I mean. They all say things are better when you're at court."

Once those words would have been music to his ears. Instead, Thomas felt a lump in his throat.

 _I am glad to be back. This is where I belong, but I should have stayed in Downton for a while longer before leaving home._

 _I would have had more time with Daisy. With Papa._

"That's kind of them." He pretended to fix the rope holding the bucket to hide his emotion. "Why don't you go for a swim, eh? There's time enough before the evening meal."

 _Thank the gods for the longer days._

Ethan rushed off. As tempting as it was, Thomas could not bring himself to join him and the others. He went to sit for a while in the woods. The breeze felt nice beneath the trees.

He awoke suddenly, not knowing what had called him out of sleep. Then he heard it.

 _Oooooooooo-hoooooo_

 _Ooooooooo-hoooooo_

The king's horn.

He scrambled to his feet, brushed grass and leaves off of his tunic, and raced back to the hall.

Inside the courtyard was chaos, with some lads half dressed, running pell-mell through the gates, still wet from the river. Water ran from Ethan's hair. His eyes were wide.

"They're _early_ -"

"Like I said," Thomas ordered two strong lads to open the gates all the way, "It's good to be prepared."

 _Now I am_ _very_ _happy I insisted on finishing all the rooms!_

The Captain, Roland, rode inside first, followed by twenty of the king's guards. Behind them were a crowd of lads and serving girls. Thomas spotted Madge in the middle of them. He gestured her over.

"Where are-"

"With Lady Mary," she sighed, her face sunburned. "Both of them."

"Thank you." He let her pass.

The king rode in and dismounted next to Master Henry. They were followed by a heavy wagonhouse pulled by eight horses. It resembled a giant box. Yet more guards and servants came behind it. Thomas wondered who all was left at the palace.

 _Poor souls. They will miss all the excitement, seeing the guests this summer._

He understood why Ethan had been so keen to come to Downton.

Robert looked hot, tired, and more than a little annoyed. He barked something at Master Henry, who bowed and hurried off.

Then the king saw Thomas.

His face relaxed into a warm smile. "Thank the gods you're here," he clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Everything is as it should be, now."

"Th-thank you, milord," Thomas stuttered. _Do I really deserve such praise?_ He caught a glimpse of several guards and servants watching them. "I'm sure the others serve you just as well."

Robert nodded. "They do. Edward is liked by all of us, and Lady Mary favors Sybil, but the court is not the same without you. It isn't just me. Her Ladyship missed you, Lady Mary missed you, but most of all-"

"THOMAS!" bellowed George from the wagonhouse. He jumped the short distance down from the little door in the side, and pounded his way through the swarms of people. He leaped into Thomas's arms before the young man could react. The action made Thomas stagger a bit, but he managed to not fall over.

 _He's grown._

"Hello, Master George," he croaked out as the blond-haired boy babbled a flood of words, hugging him. "Yes, I'm here." He laughed, feeling like he could cry. "I missed you too."

* * *

Torches burned in the queen's rooms. The light flickered on the walls, making it look like the room was on fire.

"Thank you for your patience," Lady Mary said as Thomas held the door open for her, and followed her inside. "I'm glad Master George was so tired. Otherwise he would have begged for another story or song from you before _finally_ going to sleep."

"I don't mind, milady," Thomas took his place along the wall, the queen on his left. "I haven't seen him for a while."

"The king and I were talking about how big he is," Cora said proudly. "For a boy his age, he's tall. Like his mother."

"And his father."

Both the king and queen turned in surprise to look at their daughter. Lady Mary only smiled at them as she sat down.

"How are Charles and Elsie, Thomas?" asked Robert, after a pause. He glanced in Sybil's direction. She sat in the corner with Sarah, sorting a pile of clothing. "Your sister has kept us informed, but you have seen them sooner than she has."

"They are well, milord." Thomas hesitated. The king surely knew none of them would ever be well again; at least, not like they were. Yet it felt wrong to simply mouth polite words. "Most of the time. They have good days and bad days."

 _We all have._

"Of course," the king said. His eyes were sad. "There is nothing worse than losing a child."

The queen reached out her hand to him. A spasm of pain rippled across her face. The king took her hand and squeezed it.

"Thank you for letting me stay at home so long," Thomas blurted out. "I…needed the time to grieve."

"While we are here, if you want to go home to visit, please ask," Cora told him. "I am sure the king will not deny you."

"And if he does, come to me," Mary spoke up, arching an eyebrow. "Sybil, I will do my best not to deny any request you give me, either."

"Thank you, milady," her servant answered. She appreciated the king's daughter promising only what she could give.

 _If she needs me, I will have to stay. That is how she is._

The hidden Goddess of Peace was fond of the young woman. There was a depth to her that not many saw.

And of course, she had the distinct advantage of knowing Mary's past better than anyone.

Including Mary herself.

Robert huffed in protest, bending over to scratch his puppy Drini behind her ears. "I won't begrudge you time at home, Thomas. Not to grieve for your sister, or simply to spend time with your father and stepmother."

Thomas nodded without comment. He was well aware of the king's generosity.

"Your devotion to Daisy is touching." There was not a trace of irony in Mary's voice. Though the corner of her lip turned up. "Not all of us are as fond of our sisters as you are."

"I hope you behave yourself when _your_ sister arrives," Cora gave her daughter a pointed look. "If the two of you get into an argument, Bertie might feel obliged to declare war on your father."

"My son-in-law is the last ruler I expect to threaten war, much less wage it." The king said in a dry voice. He went back to reading a scroll.

Rolling her eyes, Mary addressed her mother. "The only reason I would bother Edith is if she lords it over me. Grantham will be George's kingdom someday, not hers."

"Like it or not, she will take precedence over you," Cora reminded her. "You are the king's daughter. But she is married to a king."

The look Sybil gave Thomas across the room told him that a similar conversation had taken place before. Numerous times. He could read the expression on her face.

 _Crikey._

He bit his lip to keep from smiling.

Mary feigned boredom. "I remember who Edith married. I did attend their wedding."

She dismissed Sybil after a little while, saying she would go to bed early. Thomas was relieved when the king said the same to him. His belly was rumbling.

 _I never did get my evening meal._

At least with the cook at the hall, there was bound to be more than fried fish.

"Thomas, it's good to have you back," Cora said as they left. He bowed and walked out.

Sybil grinned at him as he closed the doors behind them. Light from the torches reflected in her pale blue eyes. "I am glad to see you, brother." She set down the big bundle of clothing and hugged him. "Very glad."

His heart melted. "I'm glad to see you, too," he whispered. Her hair tickled his face.

 _Thank you, gods, for leaving me one sister. Even if she's not my blood, she's still my sister._

"I would have imitated Master George and jumped on you, but I doubt I would have gotten away with it," she joked. He laughed.

"Lady Mary would have been shocked. Here, let me help you," he motioned to her. She handed over some of the tunics for him to carry.

"Thank you. They aren't heavy, not really, but those stairs are steep." She blew a dark strand of hair out of her face.

After putting the bundle in another room, they went to the kitchens. Sure enough, there was roasted lamb, fresh bread, and ripe berries baked into a crust. The smells made Thomas's mouth water. Both of them ate sitting in the courtyard. A large fire burned nearby, with several guards laughing around it. The ones on duty guarded the gates and stood on either corner of the walls, overlooking the hill and river.

Sybil wiped her hands on a cloth and stood up. "Care for a walk? I need one, after riding in that wagon for days. And the guards will surely let me outside the gates if you go with me. Some of the others are sitting by the fire down the hill."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. But I _need_ to go to bed. It's been a long two days, and there will only be more work to do tomorrow."

In truth, he really wanted to see Edward. His mate had been hurried away by Master Henry to help take care of the wagon and horses (not that the two of them could have had an actual reunion in front of everyone, but still), and he had not seen him since, except for one glimpse in the courtyard earlier.

 _Better luck tomorrow._

She leaned over, though no one was close enough to hear them. "We might run into someone outside. In the woods."

Thomas gaped at her.

 _She can't mean-_

Her eyes twinkled, and his heart started beating as though he had just run from the village.

 _She DOES._

"You wicked woman," he whispered as they went out of the front gate. "Helping servants sneak around!"

"I do not sneak," she murmured. "You and I are going for a walk, and you and I will come back together. In the meantime, if we both get a bit lost – no one needs to know."

They walked around the structure until they were on the southern side, near where Thomas had slept earlier. The edge of the woods was right in front of them. Sybil cupped her hands and made a bird call.

"You sound just like an owl." Thomas was impressed.

"Shhhh!" she shushed him, listening. There was an answer, and a moment later Edward stepped out from behind a tree. His face was shadowed beneath its branches, but his smile glimmered in the darkness.

Thomas raced forward into his mate's arms. They embraced and then kissed, and kissed again, holding each other close.

"By the gods, I missed you," Edward gasped, his voice ragged. He rested his forehead against Thomas's. "I would never say you had no right to stay so long at home, of course, but I pray we will never be apart for that long again."

For an answer, Thomas claimed his mouth again. "No," he breathed. "Never." He felt dizzy. With happiness, with joy, with love for his man.

They both jumped when Sybil spoke behind them. "I will be back near moonrise," she said quietly, smiling. "I tried to be sure no one would come this way, but be careful." She vanished into the trees, heading in the direction of the servants congregated down the hill.

Thomas could feel the beating of Edward's heart through his tunic. It mirrored his own. He cupped his mate's face in his hand, running his thumb across his cheekbone.

 _His beautiful face. With an even more beautiful heart._

 _And he is_ _mine_ _._

"I missed you so much," he whispered. "I love you." He felt near tears. His grief for Daisy, his former anger with the gods, his reconciliation with Papa, and his peace with Elsie – all of that was set aside.

Only love mattered.

"I love you, my sweet man," Edward kissed him lightly on his lips, his cheek, along the stubble on his jawline. "The world might not think you are sweet, but _I_ know better." When he nibbled his ear, Thomas gasped.

They broke apart, holding hands, gazing at each other in the dim light.

Without a word, Edward drew him into the shelter of the trees.

* * *

The Messenger's golden sandals glowed, even in the dark. He smirked as his wife approached him. She had gone in the direction of the hill, only to change course and go further into the woods.

"Thomas was right," Tom said. "You _are_ wicked."

"If you think I was being wicked helping them, wait a while." She gave him a cheeky grin.

He smirked wider. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Sybil stepped into his embrace, her fingers grazing his bare shoulders. "I think you do."

Sliding his hands down to her waist, he kissed her, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth. She was like water to a thirsty man.

"Husband," she murmured. His lips were soft against her neck. She drew him closer, her fingers digging into his shining skin. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he breathed. They tumbled onto the ground.

* * *

Sprawled on his back, Thomas held Edward in his arms. His mate's head rested on his shoulder.

His body hummed, and he smiled lazily.

 _Tired? What's that?_

He turned his head and squinted at a snuffling sound behind them. From the shape of it, he guessed it was an old boar, rooting for something in the ground. Its shoulders were very broad.

"You look well," Edward traced his finger across Thomas's bare chest. "I'm glad for your sake that you made peace with your father and Else. It becomes you." He tousled his hair.

"Happiness?" Thomas attempted to frown. It was difficult, being as happy as he was at the moment. "Whatever will I do for excitement now? Take up with Sarah again?" His tone was sarcastic. Once he and the queen's servant conspired together; something of which he was now ashamed. _I was bored, and angry at the world then._ "No doubt she would relish the taste of intrigue, especially with all the guests the king expects this summer."

"Maybe. Or maybe not," Edward said. "After Her Ladyship nearly died, Sarah's changed. She hasn't become a ray of sunshine-" –the two grinned- "But she seems less interested in stirring up trouble."

"Well, I must have someone, or something, to fight. I'm not used to living in perpetual peace." Thomas teased, wanting to get a reaction from his mate.

Edward did not disappoint him. He nuzzled his neck. "Have you ever thought of getting along with as many people as possible? It's not a bad way to live."

He made it impossible for Thomas to think straight.

"It's enough for me," he struggled to breathe, "To get along with you."

* * *

Sybil and Tom lay blissfully in each other's arms, kissing.

"You need to go," Tom murmured for the fourth time. He kissed her forehead. "You and Thomas need to go back through the front gates without anyone getting suspicious, and Edward needs to slip back by the stables."

A smile broadened on his wife's face. "Why are you in such a hurry to get rid of me? Will you be back tomorrow night?"

The Messenger God did not answer, but only laced his fingers through her hair.

Sybil half-sat up. Moonlight speckled her pale skin through the leaves above them, and her hair tumbled down her back and over her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Flopping down onto his back, Tom stared up at the sky.

" _Something_ is wrong. But…I cannot seem to settle on what it is."

Sybil glanced around through the gloom of the trees. It was far too dark for any mortal to see, but in the dim light of the rising moon, she could make out even an ant crawling on a branch of a tree.

They were alone.

"Is it Grandfather? Or the Master of Fire?" She asked, in a low voice.

"Neither. There was a thunderstorm not long ago," Tom explained. "In Downton. You were at the palace."

Sybil frowned. "I heard nothing."

"Hmmm," he rolled onto his side, his divinity casting a golden glow on the ground. "It was sent to you. Maybe to your mother too; I'm not sure. It came from Beryl, I know that much. You _should_ have heard it. No matter where she sent the storm." His eyes met hers.

"Someone interfered," she said, understanding.

"More than one."

She felt a sudden rush of alarm. "You don't know who interfered."

"I cannot be certain," he admitted. "Of who was trying to block my sight, or if the message was intended just for you, or for you and your mother. It was quite a storm. Peter sent the water – I think he only meant it as a jest. Out of boredom. You know he likes to meddle with Beryl sometimes." Ever since the Harvest Goddess had emphatically rejected the Sea God, he enjoyed thwarting her plans.

"Your mother used part of it, to reach someone," he continued. "She succeeded in that. That is what made the storm such a muddle…she used it for her own reasons, but while doing so, she made it unclear to me as to whether there was a message sent _to_ her." Tom sighed and took Sybil's hand. "There was more than a hint of Derick in the storm. But whether he acted alone, and why…that is what worries me. He hid elements of himself so well I almost didn't see him. In fact, he clouded the whole storm so much even _now_ I can't be certain I saw what I thought I did." He sighed in frustration and sat up, kissing her hand. "Eala's part in using it was clear. I saw too much of Beryl to mistake her part.

The mention of Derick made Sybil pause.* He was her half-brother, the one who sent dread during war.

"Was he simply thwarting Beryl from sending me a message?" she asked, her fingers on her lips. "Or was it something else?" A line appeared between her eyes. "If _he_ knows I am here, he will certainly tell his father."

She had no contact with her natural father, the God of War. She had met his twin sons once before. A reunion was not something she preferred. Philip was as handsome, and even more violent, than Marcas. He was also stupid. Derick was just as handsome but quieter, more intelligent than his brother and father. Which made him more dangerous.

"I'll do my best to find out. Both the King and Queen have been keeping me so busy it's all I can do to try to watch anything else. Because of course _Their_ feud is the most important. If He could just keep himself from straying _once_ …" He shook his head. "But it is better He is distracted. Otherwise He would know about Elsie and Charles."

"Of course." Sybil leaned her head on his shoulder. "If you could just ask Beryl what her message was, that would make it easier."

"I cannot." Pushing a lock of hair to the side of his face, Tom sighed. "She is busy watching your grandfather. It would raise too much suspicion to talk to her or to Albert. The Queen would likely think I was hiding something from Her. You know how She is!"

"What about William? He is not always in the wheat fields near Grandfather," Sybil said. "It's less likely the King or Queen would find you talking to _him_ suspicious, and not at all when he talks to his parents."

Tom pulled her closer. "True. I would talk to him - if I saw him. But I haven't had a single glimpse of him since the late autumn. I know he is busy traveling through the fields, but usually I see him at least once. I had seen him more, since he, Beryl, and Albert returned to divine form."

It was quiet under the dark trees. A dove cooed nearby, and Sybil felt her husband tense.

"As sure as I am that the message was to you," he whispered, "I cannot shake the feeling that there was something else there, something that I didn't see. It's fortunate Victor is still in his forge. I saw Athena there with him the last time I stopped by."

"I wish I could help you keep watch." Sybil pulled her hair back.

"You do." Tom dressed himself, then helped her. He cupped her face as she finished tying her belt. "You keep watch on your mother, Charles, Thomas, and Edward."

They kissed again. "Try not to worry," she whispered in his ear. "Everything will become clear in time."

"You know how much I hate it when I can't see everything right away," he joked, sounding like his usual self. "I'm sure William will turn up. I will talk to him as soon as I can. In the meantime, it might be a long time before I visit you again. I have to be sure things are safe. For as many people in our family as possible."

She nodded, her eyes sad. "I know. I love you."

"I love you forever, my darling."

He disappeared, but after she had gone around the far side of the hall to get Thomas and Edward, she saw a glint of moonlight on a tortoise's shell. It made her smile.

Sybil only had to call once before the two lads stumbled out of the trees. She noticed with some amusement how disheveled they both were.

* * *

 **A/N: *"What could make a goddess pause was terrifying."** _ **The Song of Achilles**_ **, Madeline Miller**

 **Next up: More at the hall.**


	67. The Other Sister

**A/N: PLEASE READ CHAPTER 66 BEFORE READING THIS. OTHERWISE YOU'LL MISS THE SUPER IMPORTANT DETAILS THAT TELL THE END OF THE STORY.**

 **NO, I DON'T EXAGGERATE AT ALL. WHY DO YOU ASK?**

 **For real, I do not own Downton Abbey or its characters. If Julian Fellowes paid me by the word, I'd be richer than him by now.**

* * *

Thomas soon learned why the court had arrived early. The next morning, as he walked with the king, Robert showed him the scroll he had been reading the night before.

"It's from Lady Rosamund," Thomas read, stifling a yawn. "Beg pardon, milord, the Queen of Painswick." Robert did not seem to mind the slip, so he read on. "The King and Queen of Hexham and their children arrived during the last moon. ' _The queen is quite eager to return to Grantham. I expect we shall arrive in Downton before Midsummer.'_ " He looked up. "'Before Midsummer'?"

"Now you understand our haste to get here," the king glanced up the hill. Beside them, the river was high from late spring rains. "Knowing my daughter, I'm sure she is not in a rush to see Lady Mary. There are others who draw her home."

Only days before Midsummer, the former Lady Edith, her husband, and their court arrived, along with Rosamund.

Edith was out of the royal wagonhouse before it had fully stopped. She embraced her mother for several moments, both of them smiling and on the verge of tears. Then she greeted Violet, who had come to the hall for the day.

"Granny, it is _so_ good to see you," she beamed, her dimples showing. "You look marvelous!"

"I am glad to see you well, my dear," her grandmother said. "But try not to exaggerate. Wearing a rose in my hair hardly makes me the Divine Lady. I'm as old as the hills."

Edith laughed.

Robert's eyes were soft when he embraced his younger daughter. Mary responded with more warmth than anyone expected, including her parents. Both sisters kissed each other on the cheek and complimented each other's children.

"Marigold, you are quite grown up," Mary bent over to touch the child's curls. "How do you like your new brother?"

The little girl smiled at her from behind her mother's skirt.

"She's very sweet with him," Rosamund said, greeting Mary. "She always made sure he had a blanket when we sat in my gardens."

A nurse was behind her. She handed the infant boy to Bertie, who carried him over to introduce him to his grandparents.

"So this is David," Cora beamed, admiring the baby in her arms. Robert touched his cheek, leaning over his wife's shoulder. "We heard the celebrations after his birth in Hexham went on for days."

"I hardly noticed, to be honest," Bertie glanced at Edith. "Mother was delighted, of course. I was so relieved Edith and the baby were all right, I scarcely cared about anything else."

Sarah snorted under her breath in the servants' line.

Coming from anyone else, Thomas would have found the king's words insincere. Everything he had heard about the man, though, made him think otherwise.

 _There's no falseness about this one._

"David's been a bit fussier than Marigold was," Edith said to Isobel, who held George's hand. "He's growing all the time. Not _quite_ as much as you have grown!" She kissed her nephew.

Thomas watched proudly when George gave Marigold an awkward, but sweet hug. The boy beamed at him when the family went inside.

"It is strange not to see Anna here," Edith said later in the queen's rooms. "Even stranger to think of her married to John."

"They are very happy together, and I am glad for them," Mary waited for Thomas to fill her cup. "I am very fortunate to have Sybil with me now. We get along well – I hope you would say the same," she said to her servant.

"I would, milady," the hidden goddess said in her quiet way. "I am glad Anna was so generous in showing me the ways of the court before she got married. She's been very helpful, and kind to me."

"I would like to see her while I'm here," Edith went on. "To wish her and John my congratulations. And I would like to meet your mother, Sybil. Mama told me her name is Elsie. I understand she married your father, Thomas - the shepherd Charles?"

He nodded, a little impressed that she remembered Papa's name.

"They did marry, Your Ladyship. Last Midsummer." Sybil's eyes twinkled at Thomas. "It was a surprise to all of us."

He turned his eyes to the ceiling.

 _Surprise is an understatement._

"Not so surprising to anyone who sees her," Rosamund turned from her conversation with Violet and Isobel. "A greater beauty would be difficult to find. The gods have truly blessed her."

Glancing at each other, the priestesses were silent.

"Both you and Mama have spoken so much about Elsie," Edith sat down next to Marigold and George. "Needless to say, my curiosity is piqued."

"I'm sure you will see her and my father in Downton soon. Probably at Midsummer." Thomas shifted his feet.

A smile hovered on Violet's lips. "We can all be sure of seeing Master Charles. The priestess in charge of the temple before I came here said he had never missed the holy day. And he has never missed it for as long as I have been in Downton."

"He sounds as pious as ever," Edith smiled as Marigold gave her a wooden dog. "I hope Elsie is not jealous of his devotion to the Divine Lady."

"She is not," Sybil said cheerfully. "She loves the Goddess above all the others."

* * *

Torches burned brightly in the main hall as the king and his extended family ate their evening meal. Thomas caught Ethan gawping at Edith, with her heavy golden necklace, earrings, and the small circlet of gold woven through her hair. His temper flared. Before the fish were served, the lad had been gaping at Rosamund's jade ring.

"Stop staring, and serve them the figs stuffed with goat cheese," he snapped out of the corner of his mouth. "And _don't_ spill it on them." Ethan startled, and hurried to take the plate.

With more guests, more servants had to help at dinner. Sybil had uncorked a new wineskin before Thomas had reached her.

 _At least_ _someone_ _pays attention,_ he thought.

"Try not to bite Ethan's head off," she whispered, deftly handing him the new wineskin while he passed her his old one. "He's nervous enough with seeing more than one king and queen in the room, never mind the priestesses. Violet scares him."

"I'll try, but he's not making it easy," Thomas grunted. "If this is what he's like when it's just the family, what is he going to be like when the Queen of Shackleton or the King of Carlisle recline at table?"

"You were new once, too," she reminded him gently. He had no answer to that.

He took the heavy wineskin and began to refill the cups. It was not easy. He had to kneel on the cushions, and deftly pour, then rise from his knees and repeat the process, all the while remaining unobtrusive. In the flickering light sometimes it was difficult to see how much wine was left in a cup. Master Henry was ruthless when it came to spills.

 _Better to drip wine on the table than on a member of the family._

He had not spilled wine in a long time.

It was a sign of his rank that the head of the household trusted him with the wine. It took someone with sure hands to carry a heavy wineskin and tip it to fill a cup without losing control of the heavy object. Master Henry usually served wine at table alone, but this night he had the responsibility of looking after _two_ kings. He had given the responsibility of everyone else to Thomas.

 _Three queens, mother of the king's heir, the dowager queen, and the grandmother of the king's heir._

What a servant was given to serve at table was determined by how skilled he was. Clumsy servants did not last. The heavy platters of roasted lamb and vegetables, of hot fish crusted with herbs, were carried by stronger lads. Edward had taken the lamb around earlier, and had been playing the lyre in the corner ever since.

When Thomas had first arrived at court he had been given the plates with hot bread and oil. Master Henry had been impressed with him.

"You have steady hands," he had told Thomas. "Good."

Lads like Ethan served the smallest plates, those with fruit or cheese. Small pickings for the family to pluck, without the servant having to lean too far over.

It was a clear hierarchy that Thomas respected. It depended more on skill than on how long a man had served.

Some rich men and rulers had women serve along or in place of men, but Robert preferred men and boys. Master Henry allowed women to help when it was needed. He had them refill the platters and keep charge of wineskins when the others were empty.

It was an honor to serve at the evening meal. Thomas preferred the time after better, when the family gathered together, usually in the queen's rooms. He still had to bend over, but at least then they held up their cups, and he could remain on his feet.

Taking his place against the wall opposite Sybil, he resisted the urge to roll his shoulders. His neck felt stiff. To distract himself, he kept his eyes on the family.

An advantage to pouring wine was the literal closeness to those he served. He saw and heard things others did not. The way Robert talked to his son-in-law. _He is glad to have another man here…I can't blame him, even if the talk is about outlaws in Hexham._ Cora's eyes shining as she listened to Edith talk of Marigold running all over their ship during their travels. Isobel and Rosamund deep in conversation about new priests at the God of Fire's temple in Loftus. Mary smiling at another one of her grandmother's witticisms.

The way the young woman's smile faded when she sipped her wine.

 _She thinks no one sees her._

Thomas was not the only one who saw.

Mary tried to be discrete, but Sybil saw her glance in Bertie and Edith's direction more often than anywhere else.

The king's daughter did not try to deny it when they were alone.

"It isn't that she has a husband and a new baby that upsets me. I'd wager that's what Mama thinks. Maybe even _you_ think that," she raised her eyebrows. Sybil said nothing, only continued to comb her hair with smooth, steady strokes. "No," Mary huffed a sigh. "…it's that I question the gods why she is happy and I'm…"

She did not finish, but there was no need to.

"I heard from some of the servants that the first man Lady Edith loved, Marigold's father, was killed by outlaws in Painswick," Sybil said. "I heard she was very unhappy for a long time after that. Perhaps the gods want her to be happy now."

"Yes, but why can't we _both_ be happy at the same time?" Mary cried, rather snappish. "Surely the gods can arrange for us lowly creatures to share happiness, rather than giving it to one person while denying it to another."

Sybil knew Mary had not been as interested in sharing happiness when she possessed it, and her sister did not. She also had a strong suspicion that when the woman referred to herself as a _lowly creature_ , she meant quite the opposite.

"I'm sure the gods have their reasons, milady, most of which we will never know."

"Well, it's very unfair. And rather cruel of them." A small smile appeared on Mary's lips as Sybil laid aside her comb and picked up two dresses for mending. "None of this conversation is to be repeated to my grandmother. Or to cousin Isobel. You know how they are about respecting the gods."

"I won't breathe a word of it," Sybil said, returning her smile. She knew Mary trusted her to say nothing. "Good night, milady."

"Good night."

Sybil wanted to go to sleep right away, but when she reached the tiny room she and Madge shared, the door was barred. They had sometimes done so the previous summer, after the trouble during Midsummer, but they never barred the door if the other had not come in for the night.

A familiar man's voice rumbled through the wooden door to Sybil's ears, followed by Madge's soft giggle.

The hidden goddess was more amused than annoyed. She _was_ tired, but she had little choice.

So she went down to the crowded courtyard. Fortunately there were still a few people awake.

Some of the lads slept outside the new shelters that leaned against the outer walls. Sybil wondered if Thomas and Edward were among them, until she saw Edward move in the glow of firelight. He, his friend Silas, and Thomas were listening intently to one of Bertie's guards.

"It's an honor, guarding and protecting his Lordship and the family while they're here," he said, sharpening his sword as Sybil joined them. "But most of us would have left the honor and stayed at home."

"Are they really that bad? The outlaws?" Silas was not convinced.

"Bad enough," the guard grunted. "My uncle's village and two others on the coast were burned to the ground during the autumn. The king led two hundred soldiers after them. They found one nest of the vipers, over a hundred of them, hiding in a forest. They rooted them out and thought they were done. But days before we sailed the king got word that another village burned, four days' ride from Brancaster. He considered sending the queen and the children here to Grantham while he stayed behind, but in the end he sailed with them."

"Brancaster?" Edward asked, his eyebrows together.

"Where the king lives," Thomas answered. He saw Sybil. "Sister, I thought you were going to bed."

"So did I," she nodded at the others. "I thought Roland would be listening to stories from far away, but I don't see him here. No one is where they should be tonight, it seems."

Silas, Edward, and Thomas understood her meaning and laughed. The guard from Hexham did not.

"Roland, the captain? He should be sharpening spears for your king. There's a hunt tomorrow. Where is he?"

"With Madge," Edward said. "One of Lady Mary's servants. Poor Sybil shares a room with her." He cocked his head. "Did she bar the door?"

She nodded. "With so many more people, I suppose they didn't want to take the risk."

"If I were you, I would beat on the door," Thomas said. "If you're asleep on your feet tomorrow, it's their fault."

The guard laughed. "Our king and queen try to separate their lads and lasses, but they know sometimes there's love between sundown and sunrise no matter what they do."

"I won't tell Master Henry about them," Sybil told Thomas. "He would have them whipped. Again. He's stricter than some masters, though the king and queen forgive almost anything."

Silas and Edward went off to sleep. Both were going on the hunt with Robert and Bertie in the morning, and would have to be awake before dawn.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" Sybil sat next to Thomas on the stump Edward had left. "Even if you aren't joining them, it will still be a long day." She yawned. "Every day is."

"I'll walk you back to your room before I rest," he said. "Some of the lads sleep outside. They say it's too hot inside. I kept a pallet for myself, though. Inside. The first night it rains, _everyone_ will be wanting a roof over their heads."

Sybil got up once as more stars appeared. Thomas watched her go to the well for a drink.

"A pretty girl, your sister. Except for her nose. I don't mind that, myself…does she have a man?"

The guard watched Sybil with a look Thomas was all too familiar with. It was likely the man meant no real harm, but all the same, he did not like it at all.

"No," he said coldly, glaring at him. "And she doesn't need one."

Returning to them, Sybil glanced between the two. She put her hand on Thomas's shoulder. "My brother is very protective," she said quietly to the guard. "Thomas, let's go."

They got up and went up the stairs down the open walkway to where it ended by the wall. To Sybil's relief, Roland stumbled by them when they were halfway there.

"You should go too," Sybil said outside her door. "It's late."

"I'm in no hurry," he growled, still irritated with the Hexham guard. "I want to be sure you're safe."

She caught his arm. "Thomas…I love you for looking out for me, but…I'm not Daisy."

" _What!?_ " He spluttered. "I know you're not, but that troll was practically undressing you with his eyes-"

"Which I am aware of," she said, her voice firm. "I know how to handle myself. And men. Including that guard." She smiled. "Sometimes you do remind me of your father."

"If I were Papa, I would have thrown him in the river already." Thomas was glad it was dark. He could feel his face burning. _I know I'm being irrational, but you're my SISTER._

She sighed. "The guard's name is Reuben. He had his heart broken by a girl back home. He'd like nothing better than to marry a nice girl and live in a forest, chasing deer and wild boar for the rest of his days. He's nice. No, I am not going to marry him," she said, running a hand through her hair. "But not every man out there has a wicked heart. Oh, and Reuben likes apple tart better than anything. He grew up near an orchard, and his grandmother used to bake it for him."

Thomas's mouth hung open. "Oh…fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "I won't be rude to him. But tell me this – how did you _know_ all that?"

She kissed him on the cheek. "You are not the only one who notices things, Thomas. Good night." She went into the room and closed the door.


	68. Change

_Change did not come easily to the shepherd Charles._

 _Oh, it was part of life. He expected it, like the grey hairs that continued to sprout on his head, and the wrinkles that deepened on his skin. Even his shaking hands._

 _But he did not like it._

 _One of the reasons why he so cherished Midsummer was because it was like a rock in a fast-running stream._

 _Immoveable. Constant._

 _Whatever the changes around him, it would come._

 _But as the holy day approached that year, he was reminded more and more that what was around him was fleeting._

 _Daisy's excitement for the annual festival was only a memory. His neighbor May, her brother, and sister-in-law, were gone._

 _Andrew was gone too – only to Downton, to be sure, but Charles had not seen him since he left to work with John._

 _The absence of his former apprentice was another change._

 _But not all changes were sad, the shepherd mused in the days leading to Midsummer._

 _The bond between him and Thomas was stronger than ever. Sybil was very dear to him, and he could not imagine life without her, or Edward._

 _He looked forward to spending time with all three of them._

 _Above all, Charles was grateful for his wife. His Elsie._

 _Their closeness had grown through happiness and tears._

 _The holy day would bring them fond memories of the year before, when they had made their vows, and it would give them further memories to cherish._

 _It also reminded the shepherd of the true identity of the woman he had married._

 _He was doubly grateful to her, for there was no Midsummer without the Goddess._

 **A/N: A very short little blurb. You all keep me going. Thank you so much for your continuing support!**


	69. Traditions

**A/N: Unlike the first go-around, Midsummer this time will _not_ be seven chapters long. But there will be more than one chapter. Here's the first - hope you enjoy!**

 _ **Some**_ **of your questions will be answered here. :-D**

* * *

Elsie was called out of sleep well before dawn. For a moment, she thought Charles had awakened her, but when she heard his deep breathing, she knew he had not.

Something wet touched her face.

Flinching, she blinked through the darkness. A whine reached her ears, and she felt soft fur brush by her arm.

"Nosi," she whispered, smiling. She pulled the dog closer and petted her. "Good girl! Go on, wake up Papa."

Nosi trotted around Elsie. She bumped her nose against Charles's head, then licked him. He breathed deeply.

"Hmmm…Els…who's there?" He mumbled, still mostly asleep. Elsie stifled a laugh. He rolled over a little. Blindly reaching for whatever had woken him, his hands found the familiar contours of his wife's body.

" _I_ didn't wake you, silly man," she laughed, catching his hands. As much as she craved her husband's touch, this was not the morning to indulge themselves. _Not today._ "Someone else who loves you did." Nosi barked.

"Ah," Sighing, Charles sat up. Their puppy crawled onto his lap. "Thank you, precious," he kissed her fluffy head and held her close.

As the days had grown warmer, they no longer had a fire burning at night. Elsie fumbled for an oil lamp and managed to light it. They dressed quickly and found the bread, cheese, and figs left over from the day before.

A smile flickered on Charles's face as he chewed a fig. "I was worried I would be sad this morning. Daisy not being here." Elsie touched his hand. "I _do_ miss her, of course…but that was a very nice Midsummer memory, being woken up by our furry girl."

"It was," Elsie agreed. "No, you cannot have cheese," she told Nosi, who whined. "You will have food in a little while."

The sheep were beginning to stir in the pen, the goats complaining and the dogs barking, when Charles and Elsie saw two torches come over the hill. They thanked Jacob for watching their flocks, and met his soon-to-be-betrothed, Emma, and her brother. Emma was shy, but very sweet. And it was clear to Elsie that the young couple loved each other.

Elsie did not catch Emma's brother's name. The young man stared at her through the darkness. It was not his fault, she knew. Though the day promised to be very hot, she wore her cloak. There were many strangers that came to Downton for the holy day. She pulled her hood up, not wanting to draw more attention to herself.

"Blessed Midsummer," Alfred greeted them on the road. He gave a command to Vyr, and she ran to join Nosi, Freya, and Ve.

"Blessed Midsummer," Charles replied. "Where's James?"

"He's meeting some friends near the shrine," the tall apprentice said. "He left earlier."

Charles could only imagine who these "friends" were.

"If I were you," he growled, "I would not give him a single coin, not even if he loses all of his gold."

"I tried to tell him not to wager today," Alfred shook his head. "But it was like trying to tell a warrior to leave his spear behind, before going into battle."

The road grew crowded as they got closer to the shrine. Charles found Elsie's hand in the darkness, and neither one let go.

When they reached the bottom of the hill, they found everyone already moving up the path. They hurried along, seeing Anna, John, Richard and Ivy. Elsie caught a glimpse of Phyllis holding baby Lily. Joseph had his arm around them, protective of his wife and child.

Beneath the trees lining the path, Sybil, Thomas, and Edward found them.

"We thought you weren't coming," Sybil teased, getting a hug and kiss from Charles.

"Better late than never," Elsie said quietly, letting go of Thomas. She embraced Edward, then her daughter. The priestesses already stood at the entrance of the shrine, and prayers were being offered. The five of them shuffled to the left side of the path and listened to the low voices chanting.

Charles was happy to see their children. But in the shadowy light of the many torches around them, he felt rather subdued. He was glad when Elsie squeezed his hand again.

 _Daisy is gone. So is May, and Drake and Petunia…the queen's mother, Martha, John's apprentice Toby. Master Bill._

She knew what he was thinking. She remembered the ones who had been there the year before, and who were now gone. When the prayers were done and the priestesses had entered the shrine, the noise grew to a clamor around them. People began singing, banged sticks together, and told jokes. All to welcome the dawn, and to honor the Goddess.

A small boy next to them sang a funny song. Sybil and Edward joined him, while Thomas had a swordfight with the boy's brother, their sticks clacking against each other.

As much as Elsie wanted to join in the revelry, she too felt a loss.

 _I cannot SEE Beryl, or William and Albert, or Tom now._

 _I miss them all the same._

 _Still, there is much to be thankful for._

"It has been quite a year," she said. Charles had to lean closer to hear her through the caterwauling. He saw the smile on her face, and knew what she meant. His heart beat faster. He brought her hand to his lips.

 _No, this past year has not been all grief. Far from it._

The noise grew to a deafening roar around them as the sky lightened in the east. As the sun broke over the hill, the cheers doubled. Two baskets, one with doves inside, and the other holding a handsome vine of grapes had appeared between the priestesses. Along with a little goat.

Charles bowed his head as Violet and Isobel came down the path with the Goddess's gifts. He glanced at his wife, his eyebrows raised, but she only gave him a mysterious smile back.

 _Even the Divine do not know how I do it._

The crowd milled about after the priestesses had passed. Most started back towards Downton, but many were trying to find friends among the crush. Charles put a hand on Thomas's shoulder.

"I am glad you all stood with us," he smiled. "I thought you, Edward, and Sybil would be up by the front, with the king and his family."

"With the king's sister and Lady Edith being here, there wasn't room," he said.

"Master George was very upset," Edward added. "He wanted Thomas right by him."

"I promised I would share a berry cake with him later." Thomas grinned, suppressing a yawn. "Lady Mary said he could only have one _if_ he stopped sulking."

Elsie and Sybil exchanged news in low voices.

"I am sorry you will not see Tom for a while," Elsie whispered. "I'm sure he thinks it is for the best."

Sybil nodded, only turning when Ivy called her name. She and Elsie waved at the girl.

"So the thunderstorm _was_ for me," Elsie went on. She bit her lip. "From Beryl. I was so busy, using it for my own purposes that I did not see anything in it for me."

 _How could I miss a message from Beryl?_

 _You were so focused on Thomas that you hardly noticed anything else._

"Tom was not sure if it was meant for me or for me _and_ you." Sighing, Sybil leaned back against a tree. "He is not sure of many things right now…except that Victor is in his forge, and the King is trying to keep the Queen from finding out about his latest conquests."

Worry pricked at Elsie. What did all of it mean?

 _Surely Tom will find out. And he will tell Sybil, or me._

 _We have several of our dearest friends keeping watch for us, too._

 _I trust them implicitly._

Her son-in-law's certainties about the Fire God and the King of the Gods comforted Elsie somewhat. "She will find out," she rolled her eyes, referring to her father's wife. "She _always_ finds out. You would think he'd have learned by now."

"You would think." Sybil's voice was dry. "I found out something else from Tom. Not on his last visit, but the one before. About you." She squinted into the morning sun. "He told me you arranged to have the priests at Victor's temple in Loftus removed, and new ones brought in."

Elsie blinked. She had almost forgotten about it. "It was not difficult," she shrugged. "One man fell in love with a girl visiting the Goddess of Love's shrine. Another was surprised to find he had inherited his cousin's land. Both left the priesthood, and were replaced by much better men."

"It was a nice gift from you, but I don't think the Master of Fire much cares if he has faithful priests."

"He deserves them whether he cares or not," Elsie said, linking her arm through her daughter's. "It is _Our_ right to have priests and priestesses who honor us."

"Spoken like a goddess," Sybil grinned.

They stood and talked to Ivy for a while. The girl was happy to see them, but she looked uncomfortable when Elsie invited her to her home.

"Thank you," she said with a nervous smile. "I've been busy lately…selling in the market, and such. When I can I like to go see Alfred, of course. I don't want to be a bother." Her face grew pink.

"You're never that," Elsie told her gently.

After she had walked off in search of a friend, Sybil leaned over. "You know why she doesn't want to come to the house."

"Because of Daisy." Sighing, Elsie watched several children running around inside the shrine. "I hope in time she will come back."

Edward, Thomas, and Charles had been talking to Richard. Edward waved at Sybil. "Coming? We're going to the feast now."

"Save places for us, please," Charles told them. "And try not to eat my share before we get there," he joked.

"You know I will." Thomas gave his father a cheeky grin. It made Charles laugh.

Elsie and Charles made their way towards the entrance to the shrine. Robert and his family were still there, greeting people. The king's eyes lit up when he saw Charles.

Edith was talking with the farmer Tim, his wife Margie, and their children. She turned when her father touched her arm.

"You remember Master Charles, I trust?" Robert asked.

"I do." She smiled when Charles bowed. "You were very kind to let us come pet your lambs when we visited our grandmother. My sister was afraid of the sheep, if I remember, but I wasn't."

"Watching two rams lock horns can be unsettling, especially for small children." Charles was pleased she remembered. The queen had brought her daughters to Downton several times when they were young, to visit Martha. "Who is this little one?"

Edith smiled at the infant in her arms. He had light brown fuzz on his head, and his face was the same shape as his mother's. "This is our son, David." Bertie ended his conversation and joined them. "Master Shepherd, this is my husband."

Charles bowed again. It seemed strange that the tall, rather unassuming man in front of him was a king.

 _A king who rules a kingdom larger than Grantham._

The King of Hexham wore a light brown tunic, and a dark green cloak. Fine gold was woven into his sandals, but Charles thought he could have easily been mistaken for a merchant.

"Milord, it is an honor to have you and your family here with us."

"Thank you," Bertie smiled and looked at his wife. "I'm glad to help continue a family tradition. I understand the king used to come here when he was a boy."

"We came here every summer. I'm glad our grandchildren will get to share in the fun, too." Robert gestured to Cora, who was talking to Elsie. Cora held Marigold on her hip.

"It is so nice to have both our girls here, and the grandchildren," she was saying. "You and Charles must like having Thomas and Sybil nearby."

"We are glad of it, milady," Elsie smiled at Marigold, who smiled shyly back, her finger in her mouth. "We hope to have them and Edward come visit – if they can be spared, of course."

"I'll tell the king we will just have to spare them. At least for several days this summer. It would be cruel to have them so close and for us to keep them from you. Oh," she began walking in Robert's direction. "The king wants to introduce you to the _other_ king and queen in our family."

The young couple were gracious, and asked questions about their flocks. Though, Elsie noticed with hidden amusement, Edith was not able to conceal her surprise. Bertie too was very polite, but his face turned bright red when he saw the shepherdess, and he kept clearing his throat.

Both Violet and Rosamund had written to Edith about Elsie's beauty. She was just as stunned over how much they had _not_ exaggerated as she was by seeing the woman in front of her. And that was shocking enough.

 _What words could describe her?_

To be sure, Elsie's features were not flawless, she thought. But despite the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, and the grey hairs mixed in with the auburn on her head, she was absolutely striking. The contrast of her reddish hair against her dark blue cloak was beautiful.

Though the sisters had largely set aside their rivalry, part of Edith was delighted to see a woman who completely outshone Mary.

 _An older woman, too._

 _She knows she is beautiful. But she does not flaunt herself._

 _She doesn't need to._

 _Some women paint their eyes and faces. She needs none of that._

 _Her beauty is deeper than her appearance._

It was the sort of beauty that grew with time, the younger woman mused. She knew instinctively that even were she to never see the shepherdess again, she would remember what she looked like.

 _So will Bertie._

 _I will have to tease him later._

After Charles and Elsie had left, Edith stood, not speaking. Rosamund, holding George's hand, came up next to her. There was a knowing smile on her face.

"What do you think now?" She asked her niece.

Edith shared an identical, incredulous look with her friend and servant Laura. The blonde young woman had been equally skeptical of the descriptions of the shepherdess.

"Bananas," they said at the same time.

* * *

Anna called to Elsie just as they had left the trees. Behind her, Mary hurried to join her family. Elsie saw the dark-haired king's daughter wearing a rare smile.

She only just saved herself from breaking into a brilliant smile of her own.

"Blessed Midsummer," she hugged her young friend. "It's good to see you. You look well."

 _Pale, but well._

"Blessed Midsummer," Anna was almost bouncing on her toes. "Where is – oh, I see. John's dragged your husband aside."

"I suppose he wants to talk to Charles." _About something very important._

"I wanted to talk to you," Anna began. Her smile wavered a little. "Alone. You see-" –her smile crept back- "I'm carrying a child. I-I'm going to be a mum." Tears filled her eyes.

"Oh Anna!" Elsie cried. She embraced her again. "I am _so_ happy for you. You will be a wonderful mother. And John, a loving father."

"Thank you." Anna wiped at the tears in her eyes, her smile brighter than the sun. "I wanted to tell you as soon as I could today. I didn't want you finding out from someone else. Isobel says the baby should be born in mid-autumn." She reached out and took Elsie's hands. "I still pray to the Divine Lady for you and Master Charles to have a child. Dad told me the gods always listen, but sometimes they take a long time to answer."

The faith Anna showed made Elsie weep. "Your father was right," she whispered, feeling a tear run down her cheek. "They do always listen." She kissed her friend on the cheek. She was very touched that the young woman was sensitive enough to tell her news to her alone. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I was," Anna sighed. "I am actually hungry now – for a while, I didn't like anything John tried to give me to eat."

"Then we should go to the feast. You and Master John are welcome to sit with us."

"We would, but we promised to meet a few friends of ours. Will I see you at the competition later?" Anna smoothed her hand down the front of her tunic. Elsie was sure it was an unconscious gesture, but it made her smile.

"Yes. Tell John congratulations from me. Wait!" She said, as Anna went to meet her husband. "Do Sybil, Thomas, and Edward know?"

"Yes," Anna laughed. "John and I ran into them before dawn, and he blurted it out before I even said 'Blessed Midsummer'. He's been so impatient for today, to tell people! Worse than me!"

"I can't blame him for that," Elsie watched her go. Charles met her halfway down the hill.

"She told you about the baby," he grinned. She caught his hand, and they hugged.

"He told you about the baby."

"He did." Charles could not stop smiling. John's happiness was something rare to see. Once, he would have said the blacksmith was the last man he thought would be a father, but his old friend had changed tremendously since he was young.

 _He will be a good father._

The feast was, as usual, generous. Charles and Elsie found their children sitting alongside the river, instead of at a table.

"It's less formal," Edward said, biting into a quail's leg. The skin crackled. "Just for the day, I want to forget about manners."

"And dignity," Thomas laughed at him. "You've got grease on your chin-" He reached over to wipe it off. Edward grabbed his wrist.

"I _want_ there to be grease on my chin. It's not a feast without a mess. You've got bread and oil on the corner of your lip. Careful, or I'll drip grease on you." He waved the quail's leg over Thomas's head. His mate flinched.

"Don't get it in my _hair_ -"

"Children," Elsie cocked an eyebrow, "Do I need to knock your heads together?"

Charles and Sybil shook their heads, grinning. Both of them managed to eat even the lentil soup without spilling a drop on themselves.

"Edward started it," Thomas pretended to complain. His eyes glinted with mischief.

"Not another word." Elsie met his eyes, but neither one could keep the smiles off their faces.

"But-"

"Listen to your mother." Charles swallowed another bite of bread. "Both of you."

"Yes, Papa," chorused Thomas and Edward. Sybil burst out laughing, followed by everyone else.

"What a family!"

Somehow, Elsie knew that Daisy would be pleased.

* * *

Alfred, Ivy, Jimmy, and several others sat near them. Charles was very glad to see Andy with them. He was even happier when after the dark-haired lad finished eating, he came and sat down next to him.

"You'll go far in the competition," Charles said. "Your strength will help you, I think."

Andy glanced down at his muscular shoulders, his strapping arms resting on his knees. "Thanks. I know that's not all of it."

"You look well," Elsie told him. "I am happy for you. Being a blacksmith suits you, I think."

He seemed more at peace; much more than when he had left them.

"I've learned a lot." Andy scratched his face. "And I got some good advice. It helped to hear about someone else's hard times. I might have thought I was alone before, but I'm not."

"It does help to know the troubles of others," she said. "It reminds us of what we do have. You never are alone." Patting his shoulder, Elsie stood up when he did. The trickle of people heading to the competition was becoming a flood.

"It's time, I have to go." Andy leaned from side to side, stretching.

"I will cheer for you," Elsie said. His face went red.

"Th-thanks, Mistress."

"We both will." Charles pointed towards the river. "Lead on, I'll be there in a moment." Andy disappeared in the crowd of people heading the other direction. Thomas and Edward were already out of sight. Sybil went towards the hill with Ivy and two other girls.

"Are you sure you won't enter the competition?" Elsie adjusted her husband's tunic, checking the knot on his belt. "I seem to remember you did quite well last year. You won a prize."

"I did." He smiled as her fingers grazed the silver band on his arm. "But I would rather cheer our lads on than fight against them." He pulled her closer, making her hood fall off. She giggled. The sound warmed his heart. " _After_ the competition last year I won the hand of my fair wife," he pressed his lips against one of her palms, then the other. He kissed her forehead. "That is what I remember best."

Before she could think of a clever reply, he dipped his head and kissed her on the mouth, never mind the people around them.

She hummed, loving the feel of him against her. Her hands rested on his chest.

His hands felt very warm on her shoulders. He brushed one against her neck to cradle her face.

She felt a very familiar sensation running through her body.

 _Husband, if we both had not promised to watch the matches, I would take you home right now._

"I remember too," she murmured, reaching to run her fingers along his jaw. The heat in his eyes made her weak in the knees.

When they finally separated after several more kisses, she was dizzy. It was a feeling she adored.

"You had better go," she panted for breath. "Or you won't get a good seat."

"Go join the women." He sighed and gave her another short, sweet kiss. "I will see you after."

Elsie pulled the shoulder of her cloak back up and ran her hands through her disheveled hair, laughing a little at herself. Her eyes sparkled, and her face was aglow.

 _My man…what he does to me._

 _I should be glad he will not be fighting._

She bit back a moan at the thought of him stripping to the waist, like all those who fought did.

The year before, she had been so overcome watching him, she had broken small branches off the hedge. Having been Charles's wife for a year, she was well acquainted of the effect he had on her.

 _And today is My day._

Her eyes gleamed, thinking of that night.

 _It will be all the better after we wait._

There were still a lot of people milling about. Men and boys heading towards the river, girls and women going up the hill; other families and friends walking off to quieter amusements. Elsie went towards the hill, to follow Sybil.

She felt someone's eyes on her.

Standing in the midst of a swirl of people, a man wearing a dark hood and a scar on his right cheek stared at her. He stared so long there was no doubt as to his attention. She met his gaze.

He smirked when she did so, boldly looking her up and down. Red crept onto her face, not out of embarrassment, but out of indignation. And not a little revulsion.

 _How dare you look at me like that,_ her eyes blazed.

He seemed more amused by her reaction than anything else, showing his teeth as he continued to leer at her. Incensed, she started towards him. To scold him, to smack him, or both, she hardly knew which.

A large group, young and old, men and women alike, blocked her path. She collided with a grey-haired woman. By the time Elsie had hastily apologized and made her way through the crowd, the man had disappeared. She looked in every direction, her eyes darting everywhere, but she was unable to find him. He had vanished into the crowd.

 _A man like him means no good to anyone._

She found Sybil behind the hedge chatting excitedly with several other girls.

She thought about telling her daughter about the man, but decided against it. There was plenty to occupy Sybil's thoughts without adding one more to them.

Her mind raced through the innumerable faces that she had seen.

 _I have never seen him before._

Had she been in divine form, she would know his name, who he was, even if he had never prayed to her.

 _He is not the sort of man to pray to the Goddess of Love._

The way he had stared at her made her shudder.

 _He reminds me a little of those men near Loftus. The ones that tried to hurt me._

It was not herself she worried about, however. She did not trust him. In mortal form, she could not read his mind, but both her divine and mortal instincts were screaming.

Of one thing she was sure.

 _He is a mortal, not a god._


	70. Promises

**A/N: THIS IS THE FIRST OF TWO CHAPTERS POSTED TONIGHT.**

 **I thought about having just one long chapter, but decided not to. Enjoy, and have a great weekend!**

* * *

South of Downton, just past the bridge, the river curved west. Someone had planted elm trees along the riverbank long before. The trees had grown together, their branches forming a natural roof. If there had ever been a hut or any sort of dwelling inside the trees, it had long since vanished. Instead, there was a fine layer of soft grass. The river wound its way along the western edge of the elms.

"I hope no one's there other than our group," Joseph said as he and Phyllis were nearly to the trees, "Otherwise we'll have to go back in the village. Everyone will be fighting over the shade."

Midsummer was usually warm. But on this occasion, it was sweltering long before the sun reached midday.

"If there are others there," his wife reassured him, "We can make new friends."

" _You_ can," Joseph muttered. "I'll just hold Lily, and try not to make a fool of myself." He had gained much in happiness, especially over the last year, but at times he was still reluctant to be around others who were not close friends. Ducking under a branch, he peeked into the small space. "No one here," he said, feeling much better. "You settle the baby, and I'll fill the water skins."

"I can do that." A lump Joseph had taken for a mossy boulder moved.

The wheelwright dropped his empty skins with a soft "oh!" of surprise. "Master Burns," he swallowed, his heart beating again, "I-I didn't see you."

"Anna told me you might be joining us. Blessed Midsummer," Phyllis followed behind her husband and smiled at the blacksmith. She sat down, untying the binding that held Lily against her chest. She kissed her daughter and laid her down on the grass.

"Blessed Midsummer, Mistress," the old man croaked. "And to you, Master Joseph." He took the water skins and disappeared through the trees. The couple heard the splash as he dunked one into the fast-moving river.

"I didn't expect him to _actually_ be here," Joseph whispered, helping his wife unwrap the bread loaves, cheese, and grapes. "No matter what John said. He's a loner. He hardly goes anywhere other than the forge."

"He's shy," Phyllis glanced toward the gap in the trees. "And I think he avoids people because of his appearance."

It was unfair, she thought. Those who got to know the old blacksmith knew he had a soft heart. He could also be surprisingly gentle, despite his ugliness.

Master Burns joined them once more. He set down the heavy water skins with a sigh. Sweat beaded on the top of his head, visible through his thinning hair.

"A swim is just the thing before the others arrive," he said. "It's almost too hot even for me."

"Isn't the river too fast, here at the bend?" Joseph asked him. "If I were you, I would rather swim in Downton, where the feast is going on."

"I would rather not," the old man's voice was clipped. "Here is where I am, and here is where I'll cool off. I'm not afraid of drowning."

 _Wheelwright, you don't want me here. Your wife and my friends are more polite._

Still, the hidden god could not really blame Joseph for his hesitance. He saw more than he let on.

 _You sense the danger beneath, though you do not understand why._

Shedding his cloak and tunic on the riverbank, he slipped into the fast-moving current. Hidden from view by the elms, he felt steam coming off his head.

The day was hot. That was true.

But thoughts of Eala were just as much to blame for his discomfort as the weather.

He could not risk swimming further upstream in the village.

 _Not today, of all days._

 _She is certainly there._

Blowing out a breath, he plunged beneath the surface, watching the bubbles rise to the top. The water was cloudier near the river bottom. Fish scattered away from him, wanting to avoid the heat he brought even to deeper water.

When he came up, feeling more refreshed, he heard more voices.

"Master Burns!" Anna cried. "Blessed Midsummer! Phyllis told us you were here."

He couldn't help but return her wide grin. _She looks better than the last time I saw her._ "I needed to cool off. Blessed Midsummer, Mistress." Daniel and his younger brother Stephen carried lines of fish. Their faces were pink from the sun. Talitha, the boys' grandmother, was lighting a fire and talking to Phyllis. The silver-haired woman greeted the hidden god warmly.

"That should be enough fish for all of us," she told her grandsons. "Unless there are more people coming."

John turned from his conversation with Joseph. "This should be all of us, I think. Blessed Midsummer, Master Burns." He smiled, a spark visible in his eyes that Victor had never seen before.

"Elsie asked if we wanted to join them. I should have invited them here," Anna leaned her hand on her cheek. "I didn't even _think_ about that."

Victor hastily wiped his face, water dripping from his nose.

 _I am_ _ **very**_ _grateful you did not think of inviting them. That would have been a disaster._

"I am sure they aren't offended," John said. "Charles told me we're invited to visit them later this summer. All of us. The apprentices, Mistress Talitha, young Stephen, Joseph and Phyllis and the baby – and you too, Master Burns."

Uncounted years before, the Master of Fire had ensnared the God of War and the Goddess of Love in a net. He felt himself more ensnared now.

"That-that's very kind of the shepherd," he managed to stutter. "Very generous."

 _No. I CANNOT go there. It's impossible._

 _I will have to think of a way not to go._

He busied himself with the fire, insisting to Talitha that he would fry the fish. John and Anna came and sat by him.

"We were surprised not to see you at dawn," Anna said. "At the shrine. After missing the ritual last year, I thought you'd be holding vigil there all night."

She believed he had gotten to Downton after sunrise the year before, too late to witness the presentation of the goddess's gifts.

Victor shrugged. "I would have, but this old body had other plans," he said, sounding as disappointed as he could. "I woke up long after daybreak."

Laughing, John put an arm around Anna's shoulder. "I suppose it's inevitable that you oversleep _once_ , but really, on Midsummer?" He shook his head. "I am no believer in the gods, and even I woke up before dawn today!"

"You were more excited for other reasons," Anna linked her fingers through John's hand. He smiled at her.

"Go on, I've already told a lot of other people."

"I'm carrying a child, Master Burns," she blurted out. It was obvious to Victor she was bursting to tell the news. "John is going to be a father."

Her open joy sent a bolt of warmth into his chest. He stood up from crouching next to the fire, ignoring his knees cracking. Putting a hand on John's shoulder, he reached for Anna's other hand. He took it, feeling more happiness than he had ever felt in mortal form.

 _Almost as much as the day the King told me I was to wed Eala._

"And you a mother. I am so, so happy for you both," he said, a smile splitting his face. He didn't care how ugly he looked. "Your child will be blessed."

"Thank you, Joe," John said softly. He said nothing more, but his expression said everything.

Victor kissed Anna's hand, then the top of her head. Her eyes filled with tears.

"I've never seen you cry, Master Joe," she said shakily. "If you cry, I will too."

 _Am I crying?_

He was.

"It's just the smoke from the cooking fire," he joked, turning aside to cough. "Let me finish the fish, or else there'll be nothing to eat but ashes."

The others were lavish with their congratulations. Joseph nearly wrung John's hand off and promised to build a small chariot for Anna to ride into Downton whenever she wanted. Phyllis squealed and hugged Anna, tears in her own eyes.

Talitha offered to come watch the baby whenever Anna needed it. "Whenever Phyllis asks me to look after Lily, I'm glad to do it," she said, her eyes shining. "I would be glad to help you with your little one, too."

The boys said they were glad, but neither showed much interest. Victor bit back a smile.

 _No, they wouldn't, would they?_

He sat by Daniel and Stephen during the meal. "I thought you would've wanted to be with your friends today," he said to Daniel. "Like Andy. It is nice of you to think of your grandmother, though – she does a lot for you."

Talitha gave him a grateful look as she broke another loaf in half.

"I promised to eat with her on Midsummer when she said I could fight in the competition," the boy said. "I _never_ thought she'd let me."

"I am still worried about you," his grandmother said, raising her eyebrows. "But I think you are old enough to fight with the boys, at least. Being apprenticed to the blacksmith has made you stronger."

"Gran, can't I-" began Stephen, but she cut him off.

" _No,_ son. Not until you reach your tenth Midsummer. _Next_ year."

"Come work for Master John like your brother," Victor told the crestfallen boy. Like Daniel, Stephen too had blond hair and bright blue eyes, but he was slight and skinny. "We can build up your muscles quick. You'd be a fine match for him next year."

"I don't want to be a blacksmith," Stephen muttered. "It's too hot in the forge. I'd rather be a shepherd."

The hidden god swallowed sparks along with his fish and berries. "Just so," he said with effort. "The world needs shepherds as much as it needs smiths."

 _If only the world had one less shepherd._

The sun reached its peak and began to drift down ever so slightly. John got up to return to Downton.

"I changed my mind," he frowned at Anna. "I don't think you should come. It's far too hot for you to stand behind the hedge."

"I told Thomas and Edward I would cheer them," she protested. "Andy too. I will still wear my hood. And if I get too warm, I'll leave and go home. I'll ask Sybil or someone to walk with me, just so you won't worry I'll faint on the way."

Victor agreed with John. "Mistress Anna, it is _very_ hot today. Here, it isn't too bad, but in the sun-"

"Oh, not you too," she complained. She did smile at him, though, so he knew she was not too annoyed. "Really, I will be _fine_."

"I'll stay with her, Master John," Talitha said. "We can cheer on Daniel together."

Joseph's face fell. "Phyllis, you'll have to stay home. I forgot that you'd want to watch your grandson," he told Talitha. "Otherwise I was going to ask you to watch Lily, so Phyllis could cheer me on."

"You will have plenty of friendly faces watching you," Phyllis said, her dark eyes disappointed. "Just not me."

Victor cleared his throat. "Why can't you go cheer on your husband?" He asked the wheelwright's wife. He could tell she wanted to. "I can watch the baby."

It was suddenly very quiet.

Every one of them turned to look at him, Stephen and Daniel too.

"What?" He asked, meeting their surprised expressions. "Is it that strange?"

 _Of course it is._

 _They know you're good at molding iron, bronze, and every other form of metal into practically anything._

 _But looking after an infant?_

"It-it's not that," Joseph swayed from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. "It…it's just…um…"

"She doesn't know you," Phyllis said gently. "She might be upset with a stranger."

Victor addressed the source of all this worry. Lily, having been fed by her mother, was in her father's arms. She was looking up, in all directions, her little head moving from side to side.

"Hello there, young missy," Victor lowered his voice, making sure the infant saw him. He held out a finger. "I'm old Joe. Would you like to be friends?"

Lily stared at him. Then she smiled and grabbed his finger.

His heart melted.

"Well," Joseph said, his eyes nearly popping out in surprise, "I suppose it's all right." Phyllis nodded her approval, and he handed his daughter to Victor.

The baby cooed, her hands flailing. She grabbed the Fire God's straggly beard.

"Easy, sweetpea," he grunted, trying to untangle her tiny fingers from beneath his chin. She only yanked harder. "Ouch!"

Daniel laughed. "You can't make her hammer iron or haul water if she doesn't listen, Master Burns. I think she's got the better of you."

"You don't mind, do you?" Phyllis asked, a slight smile on her face. "Really?"

 _Do I mind watching your baby? Or do I mind knowing she's already defeated the Master of Fire?_

"No," he said, swaying a little. "You and Master Joseph go on. Lily and I will stay right here. I promise you, nothing will harm her."

"It won't be for long," Joseph broke it. "I doubt I'll last more than three fights, anyway."

John clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You never know. We'll see you later, Joe." He grinned at the sight of the old man cradling Lily. He and Anna exchanged a glance.

 _He'll do the same for ours._

All of them left for Downton. Victor wished Daniel and Joseph good fortune in the competition, and told them to look after themselves. He couldn't help but warn Anna to look after herself, too.

She promised she would. "Between you and John, I'm well looked after," she smiled.

* * *

Phyllis, Anna, and Talitha waded into the shallower water near the bridge, splashing their faces and arms. Anna dunked her cloak underwater in a shady place. The river was cold in that spot, an underground spring bubbling up beneath the muddy bottom.

"If that doesn't keep me cool, nothing will," she said.

Though Anna did not know it, the water dampened the scent of the Master of Fire. He had already washed much of his scent away during his earlier swim. As a result, when the women reached the hedge, neither Elsie nor Sybil suspected anything.

"I should have soaked my cloak too," the shepherdess exclaimed, pulling damp red hairs away from her neck. "There is no hiding from the sun here."

"You almost missed Thomas's first match," Sybil waved a red flag in the air. "You might get a chance to go to the river-"

The crowd roared around them as Edward threw a hefty man from Baldersby, and pinned his shoulders down.

"No chance," Elsie beamed at her daughter. "Not while our lads are doing well. I'll not miss one moment. It's only once a year!" she blew out a breath.

Daniel fought with bravery, but was tripped up by an older boy in his first match. His grandmother was proud to see him shake hands with his opponent, and was very pleased to see him consoled by Joseph, Charles, and Thomas. He sat down next to Stephen, a smile on his face.

Thomas did well once again. He seemed to enjoy the matches more, his heart more at ease. When he defeated the barrel-chested Igor (who, like the year before, had beaten Joseph) he grinned at the roaring crowd and waved at the women up the hill. Elsie did not know who made her more proud – her boy, or Charles, who pulled Thomas's wrist in the air with ill-disguised delight. Father and son embraced when the match was over.

"Charles judged the match fairly," Violet said to Sybil loudly over the cheering women. "I expected that of him, even when his own son was competing."

She did not seem too displeased that Igor had lost, despite Isobel teasing her.

Andy, competing with the men, did remarkably well. He fought Thomas to a draw. Thomas only won when Andy stumbled and lost his balance.

"I'm sorry for Andy, but happy for Thomas. I wish they both could have won." Anna clapped. Glancing at Elsie, she noticed her older friend fanning herself in a vain attempt to cool. "Why don't you take off your cloak? You must be almost dead from the heat!"

"I am fine, truly I am," Elsie did her best to reassure her. She knew her face was almost as red as her hair. But she did not dare take off her cloak.

She kept watching both the women behind the hedge, the raucous crowd of men and boys below, as well as smaller clusters of people further up the riverbank. There was no sign of the strange man anywhere.

As loud as the roars, groans, cheers, and applause got, she could still remember the faint prayers unanswered from the year before. The memory of them for her was as loud as the present.

 _Ethel and Lavinia asked for My help, and I did not hear them._

 _That will_ _never_ _happen again._

So she continued to look for the man in the dark hood.

In vain; it seemed he had vanished. She chastised herself for giving him so much of her attention, though he did not know it.

 _I can hardly tell others to stay away from him. He has done nothing, except stare at me._

 _Yet._

She had a strong suspicion he was the sort to take full advantage of a day like Midsummer.

It was comforting to see more of Robert's guards in Downton. Some stood a distance further up the hill behind the hedge. The king had not forgotten the incident of the year before either, it seemed.

Anna and Phyllis left after Thomas lost to Henry of Shackleton. The former was tired, the latter wanted to get her daughter. One of Edward's friends, the guard Silas, escorted the two south of Downton. He came back in time to cheer full-throated along with the women when Edward won the competition against the tall man from Shackleton.

"I thought you would have wanted to watch the match with your friends," Sybil said to him, still beaming after Edward's win. "Not stay up here with us."

"I promised Edward _and_ Thomas that I would look after you, your mother, and the others," he nodded to Elsie, who celebrated with Ivy. "As well as both of them fight, I would be a fool to ignore my promises."

The hidden goddess was further touched by their lads' concern.

 _I did not think I could love them more, but I do!_

Clouds had been building above them as the afternoon wore on. As Robert presented Edward with a golden band to place on his arm, the skies finally opened. It was a short burst of a storm.

The rain came down fast and hard, making people scatter for cover. It did nothing to relieve the heat in the air. Elsie felt her tunic and cloak sticking to her once it was over. She, Ivy, Sybil, and Silas waited beside the hedge and then went to the riverbank.

"Thank you for staying with them," Thomas clasped Silas's hand as Elsie and Sybil congratulated Edward. Ivy went off with her uncle Richard, Isobel, Alfred, and his aunt Sarah.

Sybil was laughing with her family when a boy darted through the crowd and gave her a message. Her face fell when she read it. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I have to return to the hall tonight. Henry is staying," she said in a low voice, "And Lady Mary is asking for me."

"You must go, then," Elsie embraced her. "We would have loved having you stay until the morning, but it was not to be."

 _Mary needs you more than she likes others to know._

"Did the king ask for either of us?" Thomas asked Sybil. "He told us this morning we could stay in Downton tonight, but he might have changed his mind."

"He didn't. He expects both of you by mid-morning tomorrow, as planned," she said. "Henry is the nephew of Shackleton's queen, but he does not demand servants to attend him."

She left with Silas. Edward and Thomas decided to stay in the village until at least moonrise if not longer, to take part in more revelry.

Charles tried not to think of what revelry they might come up with themselves.

"Are you and Elsie staying for a while?" Thomas asked him. "I know Richard and Isobel talked of dancing. And we-" he took Edward's hand-"-wouldn't mind eating another meal with you."

"We promise not to throw food at each other," his mate grinned. "We can behave ourselves."

"We know you can." Elsie laughed. She sighed and glanced at Charles, slipping her hand around the crook of his elbow. "But I think _I_ need to go home. I've been in the sun too long today, I think."

The look in her eye made the shepherd's heart stop beating for an instant.

 _Today is_ _Her_ _day._

 _And she wants…me._

"Thank you for the invitation," he smiled at Thomas. "But I would be a poor husband if I didn't listen to my wife."

They said goodbye to the lads, telling them to look after themselves. Fires had been lit and the smell of fresh bread and roasted meat made Charles's mouth water. He asked for, and was given, a basket from one of the cooks. He and Elsie walked towards home hand in hand.

They tried not to run.

* * *

 **A/N: On to the next chapter…** _ **now.**_


	71. Irresistable

**A/N: THIS IS THE SECOND CHAPTER POSTED TODAY.**

* * *

The heat of the day rose. Victor could practically see it shimmering in the air. Yet under the elms there was shade and a slight breeze. Lily slept for a while. When she woke, she kicked her legs, watching the leaves above them.

Moving from beside the elm, Victor stretched out on the ground next to her. He leaned on his elbow. "Lily," he murmured. "What do you see?" The baby turned her head at the sound of his voice. She reached for his beard again, but he moved before she could grab it again. "Do you want to see something other than the leaves in the trees?"

He looked up, scanning the branches and everything around them.

Then he snapped his fingers.

Little sparks flew from his fingertips – yellow, orange, white, red, even a light pink that resembled the blush of dawn. A blue flame that resembled Eala's eyes.

The Master of Fire broke into a toothy smile when Lily giggled. She reached for the sparks, her chubby baby hands flailing. Victor kept them well out of her reach.

Then they vanished.

"Where did they go?" His eyes were wide. Her brown ones were the same. "Where did they go, Lily?"

Flicking his fingers as though there was water on them, the sparks appeared. Lily squealed, and Victor repeated the game more times than he could count. The baby laughed so hard she gave herself hiccups. The sound made him laugh, too.

The laughter of the mortal infant and the immortal god reached an owl perched high on a branch. It sleepily opened one eye, ruffling its feathers.

Victor flopped onto his back, still laughing. The sight of the owl could not diminish his glee.

 _You know me well, Thea._

 _You know I cannot resist small ones, mortal or divine._

* * *

The crowds milled about once the competition was over. Some people searched for food. Most headed for the river to get relief from the heat. Edward and Thomas headed that way too, but they were stopped by friends and well-wishers, including their family.

A group of lads and young men gathered in the center of the circles where the matches had been fought. Gold and other coins were exchanged. Ethan was glad to win his small wager.

"Edward won last year, so I thought I would bet on him," he told Alfred, jingling the silver coins in his hand. "I guess it was the right choice."

"A better one than my cousin made," the tall red-haired lad said. Jimmy scowled as he paid those around him. He joined Alfred and Ethan, looking thoroughly disgusted.

"I'm skint," he snorted. "That's the last time I listen to Jos. Listen, Alfred, could I have just a couple of gold? I'm supposed to meet a girl from Loxleigh before the dancing-"

"No _,_ " Alfred cut him off. "It's your own fault you lost all your wages."

"Come on-"

" _No."_ He waved in the direction of the riverbank. "I have to go. I promised Ivy I'd meet her after the competition. I meant to give a message to Master Charles, but he's already leaving with the mistress." Alfred shot away before Jimmy could ask again for gold.

The shepherd's familiar broad shoulders were visible, as was the curvy figure at his side. The couple stopped to talk for a moment to Richard and Isobel. The priestess said something, and Elsie laughed, her bright eyes gleaming.

"S- _she's_ Thomas's stepmother?" Ethan stuttered. His mouth hung open. He was practically drooling.

Jimmy crossed his arms. "That's her. She married the master last Midsummer," he turned and spat on the ground. "I thought she would've gone for someone younger. More pleasant to be around."

"Like you?" A voice growled behind them. Edward, his hair dripping, glared at Jimmy. The shorter lad stepped back.

"I-that's not what I meant-"

"You're lucky Master Charles didn't hear you," the champion warned. "Or Thomas. If I were either of you, I'd go find other females to chase. If they'll have you."

Rolling his eyes, Jimmy was defiant. "I'd be more likely to catch one than if _you_ did the chasing. Everyone knows the only one you chase is Thomas."

Edward took a step forward. "And what of it?" He whispered.

The two were almost nose to nose. Ethan hurriedly stepped between them.

"Edward, he's only angry because he lost a wager betting on Henry of Shackleton."

Thomas's mate gave Jimmy an exaggerated bow. "My profound apologies, then. You should have wagered your gold on me."

He nodded curtly at Ethan, and went back to the river to swim.

* * *

As warm as the day was, Charles could not keep himself from rushing along the road. In several spots there were puddles left by the sudden storm. Going around them, he made sure to keep himself and his wife out of the mud.

Just past where the road split off to wind its way up to the shrine, Elsie tugged hard on his arm, pulling him to the side. He almost lost his balance and stumbled beside her into the shade beneath a willow tree. The basket dropped at his feet.

"What-"

He never had a chance to ask why she dragged him off the road.

She kissed him before he could catch his breath. Her left hand slid up the nape of his neck. Her right dropped his hand and found its way over his pounding heart.

After his initial shock, he knew _exactly_ what to do with his hands.

She moaned, her mouth open, when his lips danced across her cheekbone and landed beneath her ear. "Touch me, my man," she whispered, pressing herself against him.

Her desire had become too much to bear. Midsummer was her day, the day when her power was the greatest, like the moon shining at her full. To be so near her husband and not touch him was impossible.

His strong heart that beat beneath his chest. The hardness of his muscular arms. The way his hands glided from her shoulders down her sides to rest on her hips.

He groaned at the feel of her.

Her shorter frame, fitting so neatly in his arms. The softness of her hair. The way she bit his lower lip.

 _We can't stay here,_ he thought wildly as she hummed into his mouth. _We have to go home._ The same thought must have come to her, because she broke off their deep kiss, her chest heaving, her hand still on his chest.

"Home," he gasped. It was the only word to come out of his mouth. She nodded once, lifting his hand to kiss his fingers. Her eyes were dark.

He picked up the basket of food and they went dashing away down the road again.

The setting sun lit up the western sky, turning the clouds pink and gold.

They did not go into the house. Instead, they turned and crossed the pasture. The lake shimmered in the evening light.

Charles drew Elsie down into the shade beneath the lip of the hill that lead up to the meadow. They could not be seen from there.

"I want you," she breathed against his neck. "You, my husband." She felt as if there had been a building storm within her all day, and it was about to break. Her desire only rose when he helped her remove her cloak. They sat in a thicket of leaves that had fallen from the trees above them the previous autumn.

They moved together in a tangle of half-removed clothes, faster and faster, until he heard her cry out. She clutched his back in a frenzy, and he yelled. The sound echoed across the water.

He held her against his chest as his heart slowed down. The purple posies near the lake drooped in the heat.

"Mmmm," she mumbled, kissing his shoulder. He licked his lips. They were dry.

"Ack."

Her giggle vibrated his chest. "Are you thirsty?" She asked, her voice raspy. She traced his chin. He nodded, grinning at her knowing smile. "Me too."

Elsie did not fully dress herself as they ate. He did, but only because he went up the hill to talk to Jacob while she gathered fresh water from the stream.

Their neighbor had offered himself to the young Emma, and she had accepted him.

"I feel sorry for her brother," Charles said, one hand behind his head. He opened his mouth wider so Elsie could feed him another grape. "The poor lad was sitting there, trying not to notice Emma and Jacob kissing."

"He'll feel better in the morning," she leaned on her elbow. "After we give the three of them their wages and he goes back to Thirsk to see his own promised girl. Though we would probably be better off paying the dogs wages for watching the sheep. _They_ have done most of the work today, I'm sure." Biting into a fig, she tasted its juice flowing over her tongue.

She had to fight not to smirk at her husband, whose eyes kept drifting beneath her chin.

The air felt wonderful on her bare skin.

As the stars came out, she pulled off her skirt and dove into the lake. Throwing her head back after she came back to the surface, her hair flung a spraying arch of water.

Charles was content to watch her for a time. Her quick strokes, her graceful movements.

"Come in."

He smiled at the sound of her voice. "You said that to me last Midsummer."

"I remember," she said softly. "I will always remember." She tilted her head. "Now, take off your tunic and join me for a moonlit swim."

"You speak with authority," he raised an eyebrow, untying his belt. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you were blessed like the goddess."

"I resemble the goddess in many ways," she teased, "Some of which you will only learn if you get in the water."

He did not need more motivation. She laughed as he jumped in, pulling his legs up to his chest. His splash rippled across the lake.

After swimming a bit, he stood in a shallower place, water up to his chest. Elsie pressed herself against his back and wrapped her legs around his torso. She massaged his head, running her fingers through his dripping curls, before working her way down.

"Your shoulders and back are not as tight," she commented. "But then, you did not compete this year. Less bruises."

"More strength to spend with you, wife." Running his hands down her legs beneath the water, he smiled when he heard her breath hitch.

"I am glad," she whispered, her lips at his ear. "Husband."

She loosened her grip just enough to let him turn around. He held her up as they kissed. Water lapped at the edges of the lake, ran over his shoulders and in between the two of them.

She shuddered once, and rested her head against his.

"What is it?" He asked. He could feel the tension in her body.

"I keep remembering last year," she whispered. "I love you, I regret nothing between us, I want you – oh yes," she touched her fingers to his lips. "But I promised myself I would never again be deaf to prayers said to me in distress."

He had listened earlier to her telling him about the strange man she had seen in Downton. The man was not familiar to him, either. He knew she worried the man meant to do similar harm as had been done before.

"Do you need me to stay away from you? I would never want to come between you and those who call to you," he said. The thought that it might have been his fault, that _he_ had so distracted her on their wedding night as to keep her from those in danger, made him feel sick.

Elsie sighed. "You never could. I was just not listening clearly that night."

"Are you now?" Charles let go of her. They tread water side by side.

"Yes."

A fish nipped at his foot, and he kicked at it. He swam to the edge of the lake. Sitting down heavily on the spread-out cloak, he dried his face with his tunic. It was near moonrise.

She followed him shortly after, walking steadily as her feet reached the floor. He could not keep his eyes from her as she emerged from the water. The moon was so bright he could see the droplets shining on her arms, dripping from her fingers and hair, dropping onto the surface of the lake.

The beads of moisture on her breasts almost made him come undone.

Straddling his lap, she cried out when he nipped her swollen lip. She laid down on the cloak, pulling him on top of her.

Her eyes were shining in the light of the moon above them. He moaned as they came together, remembering the vows they had spoken.

He knew she remembered them, too.

Something had changed within her, she thought. Since their marriage. It was not just that her man had brought out the woman in her. Or that he still thought her beautiful, even as grey hair appeared on her head and wrinkles crept from the corner of her eyes.

 _You bring all sides of Me together. The goddess, the woman, the helper, the lover._

 _You make me stronger._

A year before, she would have thought it impossible to listen to prayers as they made love. Now it seemed easy. It had been so for a while, she realized; but she had not fully known it until this night.

 _I am both She who gives Love, and I am she who the shepherd loves._

 _I cannot resist either side of me; for both are who I am._

"My man," she breathed, their movements becoming more frantic, "My husband, my mate."

 _My heart._

No prayers were uttered to Eala for help. Downton celebrated; its people danced, feasted, and loved.

By the time Thomas and Edward came home, the night was far gone. Charles and Elsie were asleep in the house, entwined in each other's arms.


	72. Just A Dream

**A/N: Whee…life has been busy the last couple of weeks. We had family in town, Mister was gone for a few days, I helped my parents move into their new house, in weather that would have made Victor jealous (really, it was** _ **HOT**_ **), a lovely migraine decided to move into my head for a couple of days, and I'm inching towards full-time employment once again.**

 **Which makes me all the more eager to get more of this story out, while I have time on my hands. Speaking of the story…another long chapter here. Sorry!**

 **Regarding Lady Mary, in canon her various storylines with suitors after Matthew's death ("Let battle commence") and her entire relationship with Henry Talbot drove me batty. As wildly AU as** _ **Winter**_ **is, I've addressed some of those issues here in ways that satisfy me. What else is fanfiction for?**

 **I know so much of this story has been from day to day, and now it feels like it's in hurry-up mode. But time does pass, and it now needs to move more quickly than at the beginning of the story. This is part of the plan. If I'm confusing you, please let me know.**

 **By the way, for those of you who might not know, this story does have a definite ending. It's a long way down the road yet. I'm not just adding things to prolong it (as easy as that would be); I just want to do it justice. No, I never expected it to be this long. That was not planned. But a lot of the story now is stuff I brainstormed over a year ago. So it's very exciting to know what you all think!**

 **Give me your feels, your comments, your thoughts on how I'm doing all this right – or wrong. Really. I like all sorts of feedback. Your support gives me life, and I can't thank you all enough for it. Cheers!**

* * *

Hanging halfway in the sky, the sun blasted its light onto the earth. The heat seemed determined to beat down everything, even the rock wall bordering Jacob's farm. The leaves of the trees above the house hung limp. Not a breath of wind stirred.

As she scrubbed tunics and blankets, and spread them out on the flat rocks, Elsie splashed water from the stream on her face more than once. It was a futile attempt to cool herself.

Even the water was warm.

Nosi lay huddled in the small shade of the goat pen, trying to stay cool. Elsie smiled at the dog. "Cheer up," she said. "Thomas and Edward are coming home for Jacob's wedding. They'll be here for at least a fortnight. _If_ the king can spare them that long."

She hoped so, as did Charles. A moon's length had passed since Midsummer. The king's hall was busier than it had been during the holy day. Along with Rosamund, Bertie and Edith and their children, Henry of Shackleton had stayed on as a guest, even after his aunt had come and gone. Sybil had written telling her mother and Charles about the recent arrival of the Lord Anthony, from Gillingham. He had visited the palace during the autumn, but had returned to the kingdom.

It was the presence of two suitors for Lady Mary's hand that made it impossible for Sybil to come home. The king's daughter would not release her servant, not even for two days. Elsie tried not to think badly of the woman.

 _She needs Sybil. Both her presence and her counsel._

Still, she hoped that maybe Mary would change her mind. She missed her daughter. If the king could let two of his best servants come home for a while, why couldn't the _blessed_ Lady Mary?

 _And she IS blessed. More than she knows._

Elsie sang as she did the washing. Several different songs rang in the still air, but mostly one she had heard for the first time on Midsummer. It had been heard often in Downton since the holy day.

She wrung out another tunic, and stretched it onto a rock.

 _I saw a man one summer day_

 _He passed me by, down Merton way_

 _And his smile I shall never forget_

 _The air was warm_

 _It carried a storm_

 _The smiling man held it at bay_

 _Why he smiled I cannot say_

 _But it stayed with me always_

 _Its memory warms my heart_

 _On these cold, cold autumn days._

She sang the last lines again, hoping to bring the memory of a fresh autumn breeze to the stifling summer day.

 _Why he smiled I cannot say_

 _But it stayed with me always_

 _Its memory warms my heart_

 _On these cold, cold autumn days._

"I can tell you why this man smiles," Charles leaned his crook against the goat pen, and scratched Nosi's ears. "Hearing my wife singing is enough to make me smile." His eyes twinkled.

Elsie whirled around in surprise. "I thought you were taking over the watch! Is something wrong?"

"No." He gave her a lingering kiss on her forehead. "James insisted on staying until sundown. He wants the extra wages."

"Of course he does," she sighed. The blond apprentice had been extremely diligent in his work ever since Midsummer, having lost all of his money wagering on the competition. "And I suppose you don't mind him getting them."

"Not on a day like today," he admitted. "Even under the ash tree, it's too hot to move." He glanced at Elsie's red face, her sunburned arms.

"What?" She asked at the peculiar look on his face. "Oh, I've had a touch of the sun. That's all."

But that wasn't what he was thinking. He swallowed, shuffling his feet.

"Sometimes when I see you doing things, like now, doing the washing…it's a reminder that you're real. Not just someone I imagined."

"I've always been real, dear," she teased him gently. She reached out and squeezed his arm. He grinned.

"I know." He took a deep breath, and she waited. "I had a bad dream last night. Rather, early this morning," the shepherd murmured.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Whatever it was, she could see it was something that had upset him.

He glanced at few wet tunics left. "Here, let me help you dry these. Then we both can sit in the shade for a while."

She was very grateful for his help, and when they were done, they went and sat in the doorway of the house. It was not cool, but the tree branches sheltered them from most of the sun.

"I dreamed I was going about my day. Everything was as it should. It felt like it was real," he told her. She put her hand over his clasped ones. There was a slight tremor in one of them. He went on. "I was marking the sheep in the meadow for shearing. I should have known that it was a dream when I saw Daisy and one of her friends beside the stream, but…" he shook his head. "I went down the hill to get nearer to her, but she had vanished. I called for her. I thought I saw Thomas on the road, but either he wasn't there, or he ignored me."

Elsie touched the side of his face. "It was a dream. Just a dream, love."

"And then," he went on, wanting to get through it all, "I came into the house. I couldn't see any sparks in the hearth fire, but it was smoking, like someone had just been there. There were fresh loaves of bread cooling, and the broom was leaning against the wall. The floor had just been swept. I called for you, louder and louder, but there was no noise except for the wind rustling the leaves near the window. Then I woke up." He clutched her hand between his, feeling tears in his eyes. "And it was morning, and you _weren't_ next to me. I was alone. It was the worst moment…I remembered that Daisy was gone, and Thomas is away, and I thought for an instant that everything that's happened since you came was just-just a dream."

It had been terrible. He had sat up, gasping, his heart pounding. Waking from a dream, to find a nightmare.

Elsie gone.

"And then I heard you singing outside the door. You were at the well." He took a deep breath and squeezed her hand in between his. There were tears in his eyes.

"Oh, Charles." She whispered, feeling his panic and relief in equal measure. She pulled him against her, so his head was over her heart. She wrapped her arms around his broad torso, wanting nothing more than to protect him.

"I'm a fool," he mumbled against her collarbone.

"You are _not_ ," she said fiercely, rubbing his back. She raised his chin with her fingers so he was looking up at her. "You are a man, _my_ man. My mate. My husband," she smiled. "I am the goddess, but I am also your mate, your woman, your wife. _Yours._ "

"I love you," he gasped, half crying, and half laughing. Her arms were warm around him, he could see the blue in her eyes, the lines around her mouth when she smiled. He felt the beat of her heart beneath his ear. Even knowing her divine form was hidden beneath her human body, at the moment, he didn't care. He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm, making her giggle. Her skin tasted like honeysuckle and soap from the washing.

 _Mine._

"I love you too, you old booby," she laughed. She ran her other hand through his curls, finding a few more grey hairs. The feel of his lips on her wrist was sheer bliss, but her mouth was as dry as parched earth. "I'm sorry," she breathed a sigh, "But I would love you even more right now if you got water for us. I'm thirsty."

Growling, he disentangled himself from her and got up. "You are certainly a woman," he huffed, pretending to be annoyed. "Always wanting something else." He hopped out of the way, but not fast enough to avoid her slapping his leg.

He got a water skin from the house that miraculously still had cool water in it.

"Thank you," she handed it back to him, having quenched her thirst. "I don't know how all of you stand the heat when the summer is like this – it's like the inside of a hearth fire."

He swirled the last drops of water at the bottom of the skin. When he dumped it over her head, she gasped, making him laugh. "I know. We mortals just have to stand it," he said, becoming serious. "We cannot always shield ourselves from the sun. Or make the goddesses give us rain."

Elsie pulling dripping strands of hair out of her face. "The Sisters have not been as generous as they were last summer."

 _Perhaps I need to do something about that. They listen to Me._

It had rained, but not as much as her first summer in mortal form. The fields were still green, but the grass in the meadow was beginning to harden, and the land to the east was baked as hard as bricks.

"I will continue to send them my prayers," Charles squinted into the distance. Ivy sat talking with Alfred on the hill below him and Elsie. "I doubt my prayers are as fervent as Jacob's. _He_ wants the trees and fields to be as luscious as last year for his wedding day."

"How do you know his prayers?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. He raised his back.

"Because he told me." He laughed at her expression. "He's been telling me a lot lately. The lad is excited and nervous. As he should be. He told me he and Emma would have gone to the shrine and said their vows on Midsummer, like we did, if they both weren't terrified of her mother."

"They will be better off once they're married, and free of her influence," Elsie said in a dry voice. She had met Emma's mother once. The woman was intimidated by her. It was clear the farmer's wife was used to controlling her daughter and everyone around her; both Emma and Jacob chafed at her meddling.

Elsie and Charles were glad to listen and to give advice to their younger neighbor and his bride-to-be. "I told Jacob that I would come to the house," Elsie said. "To make sure it was clean enough for his mother-in-law."

They both were quiet, thinking of Petunia and May, Jacob's mother and aunt, who would otherwise have had that task.

The next day, Elsie walked to Jacob's house early in the morning. He was coming out of his barn, holding a bucket of milk. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw her.

"Thank the gods you're here," he ran a hand through his brown hair. It was already standing on end. "I tried to clean the house yesterday, but I don't think I did very well."

"You did fine," Elsie reassured him when she saw the inside of his house. For its only resident being a single young man, it was in remarkably good condition. "I will do the rest, as promised."

Jacob came back to the house after finishing his chores. His face fell when he saw her on her hands and knees. "Mistress Elsie, you really don't have to do that-"

"I certainly do," she said, short of breath. She had tied her hair back, but she could feel sweat beading on her forehead, and on the back of her neck. "If your mother and May were here, they would be doing this. They would want this house to be spotless before your wedding." She sat back on her heels. "I really don't mind."

She tried not to think of Daisy helping her, and failed.

* * *

Torches flamed along the walls in the queen's rooms. Several servants stood with large fans, trying to stir the heavy air. Thomas was one of them.

Sybil glanced over her shoulder at him, and gave him a quick smile. If she was not mending a dress for Lady Mary, she would have been holding a fan, too.

"The stables south of the hall are nearly finished," Robert was saying. "Bertie and I saw them earlier today. I'm quite pleased."

"But will they be finished in time?" Lady Mary asked, more than a hint of skepticism in her voice. "Master Henry gave the men building them the day off tomorrow."

Cora huffed a breath through her nose. "They have been chopping down trees and sweating in the sun for _days_. Do you expect them to work without rest? They're not immortal!"

"If the King of Carlisle arrives, and there isn't room for all of his guards' horses-"

"There will be." The king frowned at his daughter. "If need be, I will send some of our guards to Downton. And I'll ask Rosamund if she will send her men." Robert's sister had gone to bed early. "She brought a small company with her, but they would still make a difference."

"I will send mine to the village," Bertie sipped his wine. "Your servants will have more room, and it will ensure there's more than enough room in the stables – especially with the new ones. We're taking up enough space here as it is."

Robert protested, shaking his head. "I can't ask you-"

"You are not asking, we're offering," Edith cuddled a sleepy Marigold in her arms. "We trust your guards. And even if we did not, Downton is not far away." She exchanged smiles with her husband.

"How gracious of you," Mary said, sounding anything but.

Behind her, Thomas struggled not to roll his eyes. Instead, he pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"I received a message from Dickie this morning." Robert cleared his throat, steadfastly ignoring the added stuffiness in the room. "He wrote saying he expects his distinguished guest within five days. Carlisle stayed in Crowborough longer than anyone thought he would. And he left with even more people accompanying him." He sighed. "Which is why Master Henry and I decided to build the extra stables in the first place."

"How long will Carlisle stay in Merton?" Bertie asked.

"Not long, I should think. It's merely a formality for him to visit Dickie, since he's passing through the kingdom. The only reason he stayed in Crowborough so long was because there were important things to discuss. The rumor is the King of Crowborough was trying to negotiate a marriage with him. To promise him his – niece?" Robert glanced at the scroll again.

"Carlisle would never accept that. He wants something better than a distant relation of Crowborough. The girl will mean even less once her uncle decides to marry and get himself an heir." Mary raised her eyebrows when everyone stared at her. "What? It is the truth. We all know it."

Edith opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, glanced at her father, and closed her mouth. Sybil read her expression easily.

 _I could insult Mary, but I won't._

"Just so," Robert muttered. He turned to his son-in-law. "Bertie, Lord Anthony wants to go hawking tomorrow. Henry said he would go as well, of course, and I was hoping you would join us. Make an even four."

It was obvious that Robert desperately wanted Bertie to go along – mainly, to keep the peace between the two suitors.

"Of course." Fortunately, the affable King of Hexham understood Robert well. "It'll be an early morning, then."

Sighing, Robert ran a hand over his face. "Yes, dawn. It's too bloody hot to stay out all day, but we should survive the morning."

"Will Lord Anthony and Henry survive the morning?" Cora muttered, not quite under her breath. Sarah, sitting behind her, coughed to disguise a smile.

"I am going to bed." Mary got to her feet. She told everyone good night, and swept out of the room. Sybil and two other girls followed in her wake.

The king's daughter went to see if Master George had finally fallen asleep. Satisfied that he had, she walked on to her own rooms. While the other two servant girls fanned the room, trying to get it cooler, Sybil helped Mary remove her jewelry and to take down her hair.

"That's enough," Mary dismissed the girls as Sybil combed her hair. "I doubt the room will get much cooler, unless we get some wind tonight." The girls went out, shutting the doors. Mary closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.

Sybil stopped combing her hair. "Milady?"

"I'm fine," the woman said abruptly, sitting up and giving Sybil a quick smile over her shoulder. "Just hot."

The hidden Goddess of Peace resumed her soothing activity. The room was so quiet, the only sound was the occasional crack from the single torch burning.

"Henry wants to marry me."

Sybil said nothing. She continued to comb the knots out of her mistress's hair.

"Well? What do you think?"

"I think," Sybil began softly, "It matter less what _I_ think than what you do."

"Oh, don't be like Mama," complained Mary. "I asked you what you thought." She glared at Sybil over her shoulder. "So tell me!"

The silence thickened.

And went on.

And on.

"I am sorry." Mary's shoulders slumped. "I didn't mean to take out my anger on you."

Sybil was the only servant to whom she had ever freely apologized. She had not done the same even for Anna.

"I accept your apology." Blowing out a breath, Sybil tried to find a way to put her wisdom into words. "Henry of Shackleton is a good man. A strong one. He would make a good husband. But whether he is the right husband for you – only _you_ know that."

 _Yes, Tom, I know how happy_ _ **you**_ _would be._

 _But this is about her._

"Only I don't know," Mary clasped her hands together in her lap, her shoulders tense. "Nothing is simple, either. That is, nothing is simple regarding the next marriage I enter."

"Does it have to be complicated? You married Master Matthew for love, as well as to give Grantham an heir. Why can you not decide to marry a man based on love alone this time?"

Sybil was aware of Mary's conflicting emotions. However, she wanted the woman to speak them aloud. Unburden her heart.

"Because I am the King of Grantham's oldest daughter, and it is not my destiny to decide anything based on _love alone_." Mary shook her head. "Unlike my sister. I nearly lost Matthew when he thought I didn't love him enough. Sometimes I think meeting and marrying him was just a dream. And then I see him in George's smile, in the expressions he has…and I know it wasn't."

"There is nothing wrong with missing your husband, milady." Sybil set aside the comb. "You can miss him and still love someone else."

"I know." Mary spoke the words in barely more than a murmur. Her eyes were far away. "My whole family likes Henry a great deal. He's charmed them all. Which, as you know, makes me less likely to want to accept him." She frowned. "I hate being pushed."

 _I know._ Sybil nodded. "But you do care for him," she said quietly.

"Yes. I do care for him. I might even love him." Whispering, Mary pulled a blanket over her knees - though the room was far too warm for any more covering. It was as if she wanted to protect herself from her own feelings. "My parents would want to summon my grandmother to have us take vows at once if they heard me say that. They have wanted me to marry again ever since George was a year old. Sometimes I think they would be happy with my marrying anyone." She hugged her knees, resting her chin on them. "Strangely, it was _Edith_ who nearly convinced me. She said Henry was perfect for me…she and I have never gotten on well, you know. I've never given her words much thought. When we were children, I spent most of the time pretending she didn't exist. But I will say this about my younger sister: she has her eyes open."

Coming from Mary, that was quite a compliment.

"She may see things more clearly than you." It was something Sybil had noticed immediately upon Edith's arrival.

"Yes. Sometimes. Not that I would ever tell her so. When she said that about Henry…I believed her more than Mama, for instance."

"So will you marry him?" Sybil asked gently. That seemed to be the conclusion towards which Mary was heading. The room was very quiet once again.

"The thing is," Mary raised her head, turning towards Sybil, "I don't know if I will ever love another man as much as I loved Matthew. And how would it be fair to my second husband if I couldn't love him as much as my first?"

"Love isn't measured like that," Sybil said. She sat down when Mary gestured next to her. "Of that much I know. Many people have lost mates before, and later found ones they loved. It would be different for you," she met Mary's brown eyes, "But it isn't impossible."

The king's daughter clasped her hands in her lap. With her hair down, she looked younger. More vulnerable.

"Lord Anthony would be a fine match, too." She said. "I like him. He knows the rhythms of the court, and he would not begrudge my position as George's mother. Neither would Henry."

"Of the two, which do you prefer?" Sybil asked.

Mary gave her a wry smile. " _You_ know. Lord Anthony is a nice man, but I simply have no…spark with him. Last autumn when he visited the palace, I would have had Papa send him home, if Sir Charles had not been visiting at the same time. As it was, it was amusing watching the two of them fight over me." She brushed her hair back from her face. "Not as amusing as it was when I was younger. But it was enough to pass the time."

 _And to distract you from worrying about your father's illness,_ Sybil thought.

"Yes." She drew her skirt over her knees. "So what are you going to tell Henry?"

"Nothing yet," Mary sighed. "And he knows it. All of us wait on the will of Richard, mighty King of Carlisle. He hinted to Papa that winning my hand was his reason for coming to Grantham in the first place."

"Did he?" This surprised Sybil. Of all the reasons she had heard about Carlisle's coming, that one made the most sense.

There had of course been rampant speculation as to why the powerful ruler was traveling so far: that his father had been cursed by the gods to stay within the borders of Carlisle, and the son was traveling to confirm alliances that had lapsed; that he had so much gold he was giving it to kings who pleased him; that he had had a vision of the Goddess of Wisdom, and he had been sent out by her on some unknown quest; that he was secretly ill with some hideous sickness and he was searching desperately for a cure*. (The cook had told Sybil this particular rumor.)

"Papa showed me his letter. It left me in little doubt of his intentions." Mary raised her eyebrows. "Don't even tell Thomas that. I know he's your brother, but Papa wants this to remain in the strictest confidence."

"I won't say a word, milady," Sybil promised. Mary nodded. Staring off into space, she clearly had a lot on her mind.

"If I married the King of Carlisle, George would have a powerful ally," she said quietly. "My son would be safe. He might be able to reign for a long time without going to war. I know that's what Papa wants for him. _I_ am not so sure that marrying Carlisle would mean George would never go to war, but his connection would mean other kingdoms would think twice before threatening Grantham. And if Richard and I had a son, he would be heir to Carlisle, as well as being George's brother."

Sybil knew Mary was trying to be pragmatic.

 _But she would never be happy if she did not follow her heart. Her life would be miserable, and she would end by making those around her miserable, too._

"Your father wants Master George to have a long, peaceful reign. Of course he does, and I know you want that as well." _As do I._ "But your father also wants you to be happy. And your son would want the same. Try not to think too far ahead." Sybil spoke lightly, choosing her words with care. "You have never met the King of Carlisle, have you? Has the king?"

"I have not." Mary pulled her hair back over her shoulders. "He's near Papa's age. Papa met him once when my grandfather was still alive. Papa had traveled to the court of Carlisle, among other kingdoms. Richard was a bold warrior. With an intelligent mind. Papa said he had a presence about him, one that made men want to follow him. Over the years stories about him have said much the same."

"It sounds as though your father is impressed with him."

Sybil knew the King of Carlisle. He had charisma, and was feared in war. He had never prayed to the Goddess of Peace.

If she had been in divine form, she would fully know his mind. She forced herself to concentrate. Mary was talking about her father.

"…long time ago, I think Papa saw him as the sort of ruler _he_ wanted to be. The sort of man whose name is spoken and it commands respect. Of course Papa did not like everything about him. It was said then that he had been betrothed to a princess, but that he had broken their betrothal when her father lost half of his kingdom in battle. At least then, Carlisle drove a hard bargain. He may have changed since his youth, but I doubt it. Unlike Papa. It was during his journey home to Grantham that he met my mother." A small smile appeared on Mary's lips. "He never dreamed a merchant's daughter would be his wife."

"Love can be unpredictable," Sybil smiled back at her. She knew it all too well, seeing _her_ mother with Charles.

"Yes. Well, it's getting late. Good night," Mary dismissed her as she yawned. She dropped the blanket as she got up. Then she sat down on her soft bed. "Sybil?"

Her servant turned near the doorway, a bundle of clothing in her arms. "Yes, milady?"

"Thank you…for listening to me."

"Whenever you need me to listen, I will." Sybil smiled at the king's daughter. "Good night."

* * *

"Yes, I want that one," Robert pointed at a wineskin. "Oh, and that one. The seven-year." Master Henry marked which ones they were, and handed them up to Thomas.

Thomas sighed. He wished he was down in the wine cellar. It was one of the few places, other than the river, where one could escape the wretched heat.

The king and his head of household climbed out of the cellar. Robert gasped at the stifling air in the small room. "Come, let's go into the hall. Surely we can find a breath of fresh air there."

 _Not likely_ , thought Thomas. He carried the wineskins, following the king and Master Henry, who carried his scroll. He set the wineskins in another room near the hall, then joined the two men once more in the large room. Robert was giving the other man instructions.

"…from Loxleigh will be joining us tonight. But only tonight. He's staying with his sister in Shackleton, and he wants to travel at night so as to save his horses. So he does not need a large room, or a man to look after him. He said he will leave during the third watch."

"That's wise. To travel while the night air is cool." Master Henry said. He saw Thomas approaching them. "Milord, I know you spoke of letting Thomas visit his home, him being from Downton and all, but with all your guests, I really cannot spare him-"

"You must spare him. I'm sorry, but I did promise him that I would let him go home. For a short time this summer, at least." Robert turned to Thomas. "The king of Merton wrote to tell me that Carlisle will be delayed some days further. He got to Merton and wished to rest his people and his animals, because of this heat. It means you _can_ go home for a fortnight, beginning tomorrow. But only that," he told Thomas solemnly. "I do not wish to strain Master Henry any more than I already have."

Thomas bowed. "Thank you, milord. You're very generous."

He was extremely grateful to Robert for keeping his promise. He had been afraid the king would change his mind, especially with Master Henry going on about how stretched the servants were.

"Very well," Master Henry's mouth was a thin line. "I suppose I'll have to spare you." As Robert turned to walk out, he began to follow him. "But _only_ you," the master muttered.

The three words sent Thomas's heart through the floor.

 _What about Edward?_

He knew Lady Mary would not let Sybil go home. His sister bore the disappointment as well as she could. But the last time the king had spoken about Thomas going home, he had mentioned letting Edward go too.

 _Maybe he changed his mind. Or, more likely, Master Henry changed his mind._

"Oh," the king stopped in the doorway. "Thomas, take Edward with you. He has no family to visit, and I know he's fond of your father and Elsie." He gave Thomas a smile. There was a knowing look in his eye, but Thomas was relieved he said nothing else.

His heart soared.

"As-as you please, milord," he struggled not to smile. Master Henry closed his eyes briefly, indignant, and Thomas knew he could say nothing.

"You'll need to gather your things, and prepare the other lads," Robert said, his face serious. "Master Henry, come with me to the kennels." The two walked out.

As soon as they were out of sight, Thomas pumped his fists together and screamed silently. Then he raced out of the hall.

The courtyard was emptier than it was in the evenings, but there were still many more people milling about than usual. Guards from Grantham, Hexham, and Painswick; several of Lord Anthony's men; hunters returning from the woods with the food for the night's evening meal; servant girls carrying baskets of dry clothing.

Sybil was among them. She beamed at Thomas as he ran towards her. He skidded to a stop before the dust he'd stirred up would dirty the clothes in her basket.

"The king's just told me I can go home," he whispered. He fell into step beside her, and went with her up the stairs. "And Edward too."

"I'm so glad!" she gestured with her head for him to go with her into Master George's rooms. The boy was in Downton visiting his grandmother Isobel. "I do wish I could go with you both," she sighed, shaking one of George's tunics, "But Lady Mary needs me."

"Maybe if you asked her once more, tonight," he started, his heart sinking a bit. _It isn't fair that we get to go, and not her too. Elsie's her mother._ "If Madge does your work while you're gone, surely Lady Mary will have to relent. Even if it's just for a few days."

"Madge already told me she was willing to help me. She even told Lady Mary. But it's no good. I have to stay here, Thomas." He looked so forlorn she set aside the tunic and gave him a hug. "I'll be all right. Of course I'd rather go home with you and Edward, but I have to accept it." She stood back, with her hands on his arms. "Give my love to Mother and Charles, and tell Jacob and Emma congratulations from me. Oh, and say hello to Ivy and Phyllis, and tell Anna I hope she's looking after herself."

"I will," he said. He studied her face, with its crooked nose and her striking blue eyes. " _You_ look after yourself. I don't want some idiot trying to take his chance with you while I'm away."

He had not forgotten Reuben, the Hexham guard.

She laughed loudly, covering her mouth with her hand. "No one will touch me. Madge's man Roland promised he'd keep an eye out for me, and Silas will too. Go," she pushed him. "You need to tell Edward the two of you are leaving, and you should probably tell Ethan before Master Henry gets to him. He will have to bear most of your responsibilities while you're away."

That was true.

His mate was overjoyed with the news. Unlike Thomas, he was unable to show an excessive reaction, as they talked quietly together in a corner of one of the new shelters by the courtyard wall. Lads often went in and out.

"Praise the king," Edward smiled, "And the gods. This will be our only chance of getting away from court this summer." He dropped his voice. "Once the king of Carlisle arrives, it will be all hands to the plow."

Nodding, Thomas glanced toward the doorway. Seeing no one, he took a risk and touched Edward's cheek. "Maybe we will have some time alone when we're at home."

Edward blushed and put his hand over Thomas's. "I hope," he whispered. Their heads moved together, as if drawn by an invisible force.

Their lips had barely touched when Edward stiffened and stepped back. "Hello, Ethan," he said, running a hand through his wavy hair.

Rage flooded through Thomas at the sight of the sandy-haired youth hovering in the doorway.

 _I never even heard him._

 _Thank the gods Edward did._

He leaped forward and yanked Ethan by the tunic closer to them. "How _dare_ you spy on us," he snarled in the lad's face. "What, did you follow us in here?"

Though he knew his and Edward's bond was not completely hidden from everyone they knew, it was something he was keen to keep quiet. Master Henry would whip them again, and if the word got out, it could ruin Edward's chances to join the guards. Even with the king's support.

The last thing Thomas wanted was for Edward to be punished for being with him.

 _Or beaten_ , his crooked fingers reminded him.

"I didn't follow you," Ethan flinched, like he was afraid Thomas would strike him. His eyes were wide. "I swear. Y-your sister said you needed to speak with me, and she said you were probably in here. I swear, that was all. I _swear._ " He swallowed.

"Let him go," Edward said. He was not angry, but his eyes were wary, darting towards the doorway. Thomas let Ethan go, resisting the temptation to shove him against the wall.

"Sorry," he said, not feeling sorry at all. "We were…I was…we thought we were alone. Did Sybil tell you why I needed to talk to you?"

Ethan smoothed his rumpled tunic. "No. Just that it needed to be soon. Before this evening." He leaned away from the pair, well out of arm's reach.

Thomas told him quickly that he and Edward would be leaving at dawn the following day to go home. "So you'll take my place serving, unless Master Henry says otherwise," he grunted, still annoyed. "You'll have to look after Master George if his mother asks you. Sybil will help you when she can. Because she's a kind soul." _Not like me_ , a voice whispered in his head. "But don't ask her too often for help. She has enough to do right now. Oh, and don't even _think_ about touching her." He leaned forward and jabbed his finger into Ethan's chest.

The lad held up his hands. "I won't. We're just friends. Really," he babbled. "She is just a friend. Not-not like you and Edward."

Edward stepped in front of Thomas so quickly he seemed to glide over the dirt floor. "And what do you mean by that?"

Thomas was amazed at how calm he sounded.

 _If he had not gotten between us, Ethan's face would be a bloody mess right now._

Ethan's eyes darted from Edward to Thomas, and back again. He licked his lips. "I-I thought the two of you were – close. Like the way Madge and Roland are. Like mates. N-not that you took vows or anything," he took a breath. "Thomas, your father's apprentice Jimmy told me about you and Edward at Midsummer. He seemed to think it was wrong, the two of you liking each other. I don't. I think if you're happy, and you seem to be, then it's fine with me-"

"Enough," Thomas shot at him. "Hold your tongue, by the gods." He knew Ethan was likely harmless, and a part of him was glad to know someone else who would not look at him and Edward like they were a dung heap swarming with flies, but he was still angry for the interruption.

Edward put a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "You should go. _We_ should go. We all have work to do. But we'd appreciate it if you did not talk about us. With anyone." He lowered his head. "We…want to keep it private, just between us." He thought about telling the lad that Sybil knew about them as well, but decided not to. Ethan might get careless. "Understand?"

Ethan nodded, his head bobbing up and down. "I'll keep quiet. I promise. For all I know, the two of you are just friends."

"Good," Thomas snorted. "Now get out. We're coming right behind you." Ethan tripped over his own feet on his way out the door, his pale face like curdled milk.

"You scared him," Edward said softly, turning to face Thomas. There was less than a finger's width between them. "You didn't need to be _that_ harsh." He brushed a tendril of hair that hung over Thomas's forehead. "Sometimes you remind me of your father. Protective."

Their closeness made Thomas's breath come short. _He is the only one who can say I'm like Papa, and I'll still love him for it._ "I would do anything to protect my family," he muttered. "I would do anything to protect _you_."

"I know." The corner of Edward's lip turned up. His eyes gleamed, and his hand slid to the back of his neck. "It's one of the many reasons why I love you, my man."

He kissed Thomas until they were both gasping. Then they collected themselves and hurried out to the courtyard, back to their work.

* * *

 **A/N: *This is a nod to the actor Iain Glen, who played Richard Carlisle in** _ **Downton Abbey**_ **; this is a reference to another role he's played. J hearts D, amirite? ;)**


	73. A Surprising Offer

**A/N: No Chelsie again this chapter. I'm sorry. There's just TOO MUCH going on right now. More of our favorite couple in the next chapter. In the meantime, most of this chapter has to do with Victor. :-D**

* * *

Thunder rumbled to the north. Bertie glanced that way, hoping the rain would hold off for a while longer.

But not forever.

The road was damp as he walked towards Downton. It had rained – _finally_ – over the past six days, a gentle mist that watered the earth without either ruining the growing crops or causing mass floods. But a little more rain would not hurt the thirsty ground, he thought.

He was going to Downton for several reasons. The Hexham guards had been sent to the village. There was a natural suspicion among the locals for any outsiders, even though they knew the guards were allies. The villagers called them _Lady Edith's men_ , after the Queen of Hexham.

Most kings would have been offended, their dignity slighted, for their queens to be better regarded than they were.

Bertie was not like most kings.

He relished walking along the road with no escort, save his steward. The common folk took the two men for wealthy travelers. They assumed that the two were on their way to the market in Downton – which as it happened, they were. Most of the talk was about the weather and small news of the people in and around the village. Twin daughters had been born to the butcher and his wife who had four sons. The young farmer Jacob was to marry his betrothed Emma on the morrow. Lady Edith's men and some of the Painswick guards held swimming races in the river, and played with the local children.

It was not until they reached the market that Bertie was recognized by a temple girl. He stopped at various stalls, and bought several things. A beautiful wooden figure of the Divine Lady for Marigold, a colorful shawl for Edith, and another for his far-away mother.

A crowd gathered, following him.

Ivy shifted from one foot to the other. Bertie swallowed her offered piece of honey bread, and gave her a reassuring smile.

"It's delicious. Thank you!" He brushed the crumbs off his hands.

"You're welcome, milord," she said. Her cheeks turned red. "I know you only ate one piece," she held up the rest of the loaf, "But the rest is yours."

Shaking his head, Bertie held up his hands. He glanced at the crowd of people around them. "No, thank you. You're very generous, but others have been waiting longer."

He stepped aside and let a farmer's wife, Margie, buy the rest of the loaf. Other people behind her groaned when they saw there was no more bread.

"My children will be so happy." Smiling, Margie thanked the younger woman and turned to Bertie. "It's their favorite. More than mine."

"I've learned my lesson," Bertie told Ivy after she softly apologized to those people left. "If I want your bread, I need to get to the market much earlier. I should have left the hall with the Queen of Hexham and the children. They've been in Downton since shortly after dawn."

Ivy swept the flat shelf of her stall and the floor. "I saw them, milord. Your little ones are very sweet," she smiled. "The queen said they were going to visit several people who knew Mistress Martha well." She stepped out of the back of the stall and joined Bertie around the front. "She said she was going to visit her grandmother's shrine later."

Martha had been buried on the hill outside of Downton, with a tall statue of Eala at the head of her grave. Temple girls burned incense there every seven days on orders from Cora.

"Yes." Bertie's smile faded. "I'm going to join her. She wishes very much that she could have been here at the end. With her grandmother, and with her family."

"She's lucky she wasn't," muttered Ivy. She stuttered at Bertie's expression. "Beg-beg pardon, milord. When the fever raged here…it was terrible." She looked off into the distance, towards the river. "I should visit the grave of someone I knew. I don't go there as often as I should. I know if _I_ had died, and she was still here, she'd visit me. She would remember me better," she said softly. Her chin wobbled.

"You don't know that. It is difficult to remember those we love who have gone on, while we continue to live," Bertie told her gently. "Do not be hard on yourself."

Nodding, Ivy brushed a tear from the corner of her eye and sniffed. "That's what Uncle says."

"And he's right." Wishing her a good day, Bertie gave the girl another smile and walked on with his steward.

* * *

It was always hot in the forge during the summer, but to John it felt even more so this year.

 _Of course there are usually not THIS many men standing around watching us._

Clusters of men stood or sat on the ground next to the low wall just outside. Most of them were Hexham guards; a few of them were Robert's, and several were from Painswick. Among them were men and boys from Downton.

"Stand back," he called to three curious boys who kept creeping forward. It was not the work of the forge that interested them. It was the King of Hexham, who stood near Master Burns and Andy.

The strip of cloth bound around John's forehead kept the sweat from running into his face. He was glad he could stop it somewhere. His tunic was stuck to his skin.

 _I'll have to go for a swim before I go home tonight._

Anna would not like his rank stench in their house. His wife was getting over the worst of her sickness, and she had put on more weight. John was thankful for that.

Old Joe plunged the sword he had been working on into water. John handed his hammer to Daniel, and walked over to the burly apprentice.

"All finished, Joe?"

"Yes." A rare smile crossed the old man's face. "I'm well pleased with it."

Andy, stripped to the waist, wiped his hands on a rag. He raised his eyebrows. "Coming from you, that's saying something."

Bertie's eyes gleamed as Joe showed him his work. "I can see why you're pleased. I have hardly ever seen such a well-crafted sword."

 _And beautiful_ , the King of Hexham thought. The hilt was in the shape of an owl's head; looking closely, he could see tiny ruffles that served as the feathers. It was in tribute to the Goddess of Wisdom, he knew. The long shaft of the sword glinted even in the semi-darkness. "The man who carries this is fortunate indeed."

He was so busy admiring the weapon that he did not notice the apprentice nod to himself. "You are the fortunate one, milord."

"Me!?" Bertie met his gaze, shocked. "Surely the King of Grantham should have it."

John grinned. "The king already has one. He asked Master Burns to make one for you as well."

Behind them, the crowd murmured its approval.

"Th-thank you," the stunned King of Hexham said. "When my cousin died, I inherited his sword. I admit the metal is not the strongest, and _this_ -" he gestured to the gift- "-should last far longer."

"It will." Joe set the sword down gently and took a swig of water from a skin. "It will last long past the days of your grandchildren's great-grandchildren."

"Were you able to re-forge my old sword?" That was one of the reasons Bertie had visited.

"No. The rust had eaten away much of it. You did your best in saving it, but I'm afraid your cousin neglected it past hope," the hidden God of Fire grunted. Though Victor knew metal in the mortal realm did not last, it always annoyed him when well-forged objects were used so carelessly. Or not at all.

"Peter did not care for it as he should have," Bertie admitted. "Though it was in sad shape when _he_ inherited it."

"We were able to save some of the metal. It was forged into a dagger."

Andy handed the dagger to Bertie. "Be careful, milord. It's very sharp."

"I can believe it." Bertie turned to Victor. "I like what you did with it. The two snakes on either side of the blade are especially well done."

He thought that it would make a good gift for his infant son David.

"I had nothing to do with it," Victor slapped a hand on Andy's shoulder. "That was all Andy's work."

"Well _done_ ," Bertie smiled. "You should be proud!"

Giving him a shy smile, Andy crossed his arms. "Master Burns taught me. I never would have been able to do it without him."

"And I could not have taught you any finer craft," John added. "Old Joe is as good a teacher as he is a blacksmith. Better than me on both counts."

Bertie handed the dagger to his steward. "That is a high compliment. Master John, might I have a word?"

"Of course." John followed him out of the forge and beyond the short wall where the men lounged. "Is there something else, milord?"

He felt a sense of trepidation. The king did not look angry, but his face was serious.

"I want to thank you for all the work you and your apprentices have done, and are continuing to do," Bertie told him. "My men rave about the work done here. After seeing it for myself, I can't blame them. You should give yourself credit. Robert says you're the best smith in Grantham, but I think your skill goes beyond his borders."

"Thank you. Your Lordship is very generous." John could hardly wait to tell Anna. She would display her pride much more openly; she always did when he was concerned.

Bertie glanced at his sandaled feet. "Young Daniel told me Master Burns is a traveling smith. That he arrived here last summer and worked for you, went away during the autumn, and returned to Downton in the spring."

"Yes." John now thought he knew what the king wanted.

"I would like him to be my blacksmith. I would send him home before the queen and I leave here, to make sure he gets there before us and takes charge of my forge in Brancaster…if he accepts my offer." Bertie shifted his feet. "I want to ask him myself, but before I did, I wanted to speak to you. If he is bound to you, then I will say nothing to him." Bertie glanced over his shoulder at the forge. Daniel was hammering a new piece of metal under the old man's watchful eye, and Andy was sharpening a guard's spear.

John's heart sank. He understood perfectly why Robert's son-in-law would want such a fine blacksmith. Burns was a rare treasure. John did appreciate Bertie asking him for permission. The king could have easily just asked the man without bothering to go through him.

"He is not bound to me," John said quietly. "He is fond of Downton. Of me and Anna. He does not make friends easily, but he has several here. But he is not obliged to stay with me. I did not expect him last summer, and though I thought he would return, when he did this spring, it was a surprise."

He thought about saying something about Old Joe's age. That he had first met the man ten years before. That he hardly seemed to age.

Though of course he did.

Everyone did.

 _Hexham is south of here. He might want to go someplace new, where the autumns are warmer. With less rain._

It suddenly struck him that he did not know if Joe had ever been to Hexham.

"Ask him," he said. "I don't know what he will say, but I will not force him to stay if he would rather go elsewhere."

* * *

Victor listened to Bertie's offer without comment. For a long time he was silent.

"I am honored that you would ask me. To be in charge of your forge," he said finally. He coughed, then tugged on his beard. The motion reminded him of baby Lily. His heart ached. "Would…would it be all right if I thought about it? Not forever, but something tells me you and the queen will not be heading home tomorrow."

Bertie shook his head, smiling. "No. We will be staying until the Harvest Festival at least. A little longer into the autumn. We don't know when we may be here again."

"I won't keep you waiting that long," Victor promised. "You will have my answer in a fortnight."

"Take your time. It is a lot to ask, I know." Bertie reached out and put his hand on the old man's muscular shoulder. "But Hexham needs your skill with the hammer."

 _Every_ _kingdom needs my skill._ "Thank you for the compliment, milord." Victor bowed.

He was glad there was, as ever, much work to do for the remainder of the day. He could concentrate on the tasks at hand, leaving his dilemma for later. At times he felt John looking at him.

 _He does not want me to go._

 _ **I**_ _do not want to go._

 _Is it wise to stay here for a long time, though?_

Athena had visited him more than once in the form of an owl. Sometimes she simply sat on a branch above his small hut; other times, she hooted through the night to keep him awake. He knew what his oldest friend wanted.

 _She wants me to return to divine form. To watch Marcas and his sons._

 _I could better watch Eala if I returned as well._

He did not dare to go near the shepherd's house, knowing that Freya and several of her pups were there. It was the same reason he tried to avoid Kap.

It seemed incredible to him that he had not encountered his betrothed in human form. Though Anna had not visited the forge often (due to her aversion to the heat and strong smells), Phyllis sometimes stopped by with Lily. Victor was always tense when he would first see the wheelwright's wife, or hear her voice, worrying that _this_ would be the time Phyllis would have brought along her shepherdess friend Elsie.

He had seen Charles more than once. The last time the shepherd had come to the forge, he had repeated his invitation. Welcoming all of them to his house for a meal.

Other than thanks, Victor of course had been unable to say anything. He was relieved when John said they all would be glad to accept the invitation – after their work had slowed somewhat.

It bought him time. To think of some way of avoiding the hidden goddess, as well as time to decide what to do about Bertie.

The strain of resisting the temptation to go see Eala, and wondering if she was aware he was in human form, was beginning to wear on the Fire God. He would have less worry of either if he returned to his true form.

But what about the lads? Baby Lily?

What about John? And Anna?

He would miss doting on the young woman while she carried her child. She had gotten used to his hovering when he did see her; she teased him that he was worse than her husband. He didn't even mind when she said he was more protective than Kap.

 _Only she could compare me to one of Freya's pups, and I would not be offended._

It was small comfort that John tried to be honest.

"If I were you…I would consider accepting his offer," the blacksmith said as they walked from the river that evening after a swim. "The King of Hexham is a good man. And Lady Edith…the queen, I mean, is a fair mistress. They would treat you well."

"I know," Victor grunted, feeling a breeze blow through his thinning wet hair. "If they weren't decent people, I would not even think of accepting. But to leave Downton now…"

He knew if he agreed to be the King of Hexham's blacksmith, he would be expected to leave soon. It was a long journey south.

"You like it here. But do you want to stay? You've always traveled. I remember the stories you told when we first met," John said. "Of you being in Merton, working near the sea in Painswick. You seemed to enjoy going from place to place."

Victor struggled not to smile. This was so like John. The dark-haired man would sacrifice his own wants if it made someone else happy. He did not want Victor to consider _his_ opinion at all – though his opinion mattered far more to the Fire God than he could possibly know.

"You are not from Downton. Or Grantham," John continued. "This is not your home. Not really. I could hardly blame you if you wished to go somewhere else, maybe somewhere closer to where you grew up."

 _Wherever that is,_ he silently finished. Victor knew what he was thinking. But other words John had said touched him.

"This _is_ my home. As close to a home as I've ever had." He cleared his throat.

They walked in silence until they reached the bridge south of Downton.

"The choice is yours," John leaned on his crutch. "Of course I would like you to stay. We all would. But I understand if you don't."

"Before I see the king again, I will tell you my answer first," Victor said. "You deserve that."

Nodding, John extended his hand. They bid each other a good evening.

Victor's heart was heavy. The surprising offer had given him a way to return to divine form earlier than he had planned. He always knew he would have to…

…but he did not want to return.

The truth hurt more than he ever thought possible.

 _You are not a mortal. You cannot live as one forever._

He stared into his fire as the sky darkened.

The closest fire to Eala was Alfred's. The red-haired shepherd was smiling, shaking his head, as he fried fish. James chattered on about some girl from Bartlesby.

Victor saw Daniel arguing with his younger brother Stephen, and the two being chastised by their grandmother. Andy stretched, yawning, before saying good night to John and Anna.

The blacksmith kissed his wife and rubbed his hand over her belly. The couple quickly fell asleep.

Tears filled the Fire God's eyes as he watched his friends.

 _If I leave, it is not because I do not care for you. If anything, I care too much._

He wept as the stars appeared above him.

* * *

"You there! Eric!"

Ethan trudged across the courtyard, carrying the king's shield. It was heavier than it looked. Master Henry had tasked him to polish it until it shined. That was after he'd had him carry buckets of water up the stairs to clean the floors.

And before the head of the household had told him to polish the shield. After that, he was to help Master Henry with the scrolls. To copy the ones which were fading, and to put the rest in order.

The thought of sitting for a while would have been a comfort to the lad, after his morning of hard labor. Except he knew Master Julian, the steward, would have him whipped if he spilled ink. Or tore the papyrus.

Ethan wiped his brow. It was not mid-morning, and he was exhausted. Master George was not _that_ heavy, but giving the boy five rides up and down the stairs before breakfast made Ethan's legs ache.

Thomas did more work than he had thought.

 _And YOU thought it was a good thing that he and Edward went away for a fortnight. That you would be treated with more respect._

 _Only twelve more days._

It felt like forever.

A large hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder, and he cried out. The shield slipped out of his hands. It thumped painfully onto his foot before falling forward into the dirt.

"OI! Are you deaf? I've been bellowing at you since you came down the stairs!" Roland's face was like a thundercloud. "Maybe your mother should have called you Halfwit instead of Eric."

"My name's Ethan," Ethan balanced on his good foot and rubbed his sore one. It throbbed. "Not Eric."

"Oh. Well, whatever your name is, I need you to help us," Roland grumbled. "The lads are almost done with the stables, but we'll be needing all hands to thatch the roofs-"

"Master Henry said I'm to help him with the scrolls after I polish the king's shield," Ethan said. He picked up the shield and silently groaned as to how much dirtier it was. "Besides, I haven't been helping the lads building the stables."

"Edward has. And you're taking his place while he's gone, aren't you?" Roland slapped him on the back. "Master Henry told me to expect you when you're done with the scrolls. I'll see you south of the hall by midday." He strolled away, whistling under his breath, leaving Ethan more crushed than ever.

Somehow he polished the shield to Master Henry's satisfaction, then helped him with the scrolls. Before joining Roland, Ethan managed to swallow half a loaf of bread and several piping hot fish.

He thanked Sybil four times for saving food for him. Otherwise he knew he'd faint in the hot sun.

Thatching made him sneeze. His hands and wrists were aching horribly by the time Roland said they were done for the day, and his eyes hurt. Whether it was because of the bright sun or the thatch, he wasn't sure.

His day would not be over for a long time. The cook sent him east of the hall to gather herbs for the family's evening meal.

"And you had better bring back good 'uns," she warned him, hands on her hips. "I'll not serve the king and the others roasted lamb with rotten herbs."

The late afternoon sun glimmered through the trees as Ethan snipped fresh thyme. The shade felt wonderful after being on the roof of the stable. A soft breeze whispered in the woods around him. Yawning, he crouched down to reach more of the herbs. If he sat down, he knew he'd fall asleep.

Something rustled behind him.

He leaped up instantly, then cursed when he saw he'd spilled the thyme he had gathered. While picking it up and putting it back in the basket, he glanced around.

 _I was_ _sure_ _I heard someone._

But there was no one in the woods but him. He sighed.

 _Probably just a deer. Or a rabbit._

Still, the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

He had a strange feeling someone was watching him.

It was a relief when he saw Madge coming through the trees.

"Here," she said, handing him a water skin. "Sybil thought you needed it. And Cook is starting to grumble that you've run away."

"Thanks," muttered Ethan, taking a long drink. "I've gathered enough, I think. Does it look like enough to you?" He took another drink. "I don't want that fat woman sending me out here again. Master Henry expects me to help serve wine tonight. Since I'm _taking Thomas's place while he's gone_ ," he yawned again.

 _I will sleep well._

Madge looked at his basket. "That's enough. Cook won't complain." She sniffed, and a line appeared between her eyes. "If I were you, I would go for a swim in the river before serving. The family always has plenty of flowers around while they eat, but your smell would overpower them."

"I'd better do that now. Can you take this back for me?" Ethan asked, handing her the basket. He suppressed the urge to blame his dirty self on her man Roland. Several doves flew from a hawthorn bush, and he flinched at the movement.

"I will," Madge said, then laughed at his wide-eyed expression. "They're only birds."

Embarrassed, Ethan rolled his eyes. "I _know_. Thanks for taking the basket for me."

They walked together for a little while before going their separate ways.

If either of them had looked at the tree above where the thyme grew, they would have seen a man in a dark cloak sitting on a wide branch. He smiled, stroking the scar on his right cheek.


	74. The Children

Water dripping from the branches above the house woke Charles. He blinked. Elsie was warm, her back against his chest. Solid.

She was still asleep.

Breathing deeply, his nose buried in her hair, he took in her scent. The reddish tints seemed to glow in the dim light. Like the first light of dawn.

Maybe he imagined it, but her scent seemed stronger in the mornings. Richer, deeper.

He was overcome with love for the woman in his arms.

 _My wife._

He kissed her hair, her cheek, below her ear. The touch of his lips was light, so as not to wake her.

But she did.

Not moving or opening her eyes, her heart danced.

 _Only you, my love, could wake me with your kisses._

When Charles's hands moved from her belly to her hips, however, she was unable to keep back a gasp. Turning, she touched his face, running her thumb from his brow over his nose, to rest on his lips. He kissed it and grinned at the hitch in her voice.

Needing no words, he rolled onto his back, letting her climb astride his broad torso. Soon both of their breathing was harsh. Their hearts pounding, hums and whispers were passed back and forth between them as they kissed.

Elsie began to kiss a path down his chest. Charles groaned aloud.

 _What she does to me…_

Behind the hanging blanket, someone moaned.

Elsie stopped immediately, her mouth hovering over her husband's belly. He half sat up, balancing on his elbows, feeling horrified.

Their eyes met.

 _We forgot we weren't alone._

Charles opened his mouth. To say something – what could he say? – but before he made a noise, Elsie covered his mouth with her hand.

Another soft moan reached their ears before it was cut short.

 _Thomas_ , mouthed Elsie, taking her fingers from Charles's lips. He nodded, frowning, his ears bright red.

They heard the movement of a blanket, and a very deliberate cough.

Elsie bit her lip fighting a laugh, out of extreme discomfort at the situation in which they found themselves.

 _It is embarrassing for the lads. And for us._

 _And rather funny._

"It is _not_ funny," Charles whispered, reading the merriment in her eyes. He shifted beneath her. Elsie slid off him, to let him sit up fully.

"Yes it is," she whispered, shaking with suppressed mirth.

It is _not_ , he wanted to argue. His desire had vanished the instant they had remembered Thomas and Edward were there. He didn't know which embarrassed him more – that the lads had likely heard them, or that he and Elsie had heard _them._

 _I do NOT want to think about what Thomas is doing._

 _EVER._

His son was closer to being a man than a boy, he knew, but he was not used to the truth of it being so blatant.

A giggle escaped from Elsie's mouth. It _was_ embarrassing, but really, what else was there to do but laugh? Still, she covered her mouth to stifle her giggling. She did not want to make her dear man more unsettled than he already was.

On the other side of the room, Edward knelt frozen on the sheepskin, his hands covering his mouth. Thomas, lying on his back, glared up at him.

" _Not_ funny," he hissed through his teeth.

Edward nodded, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Thomas pulled the blanket over his face.

 _I know Papa's married, but I. Did. Not. Need. To. Hear. Him._

 _EVER._

By the gods, how was he going to look at him or Elsie? To sit calmly as they broke their fast, talking of Jacob's wedding?

 _This is IMPOSSIBLE._

With a growl, he cast the blanket off and got up. He pulled on his tunic without looking at his mate.

Across the room, he heard Papa and Elsie speaking in low voices, then the sound of someone pulling the blanket back. The front door opened, and the familiar swish of the broom on the floor began. He let out a breath.

Edward tied a knot around his belt. "Come on," he said, putting a hand on Thomas's shoulder. "We can't hide all day." Pulling Thomas's chin towards him, he kissed him. "You're adorable when you're cross."

Despite himself, Thomas smiled. "Then why don't you let me stay that way?"

"Because we're going to a wedding and we don't want to cast a shadow over the happy couple. And," Edward rested his chin on Thomas's shoulder and gave him his most endearing smile, "I like your father, and Elsie, and I jolly well intend to be their favorite. Keeping you happy makes _them_ happy."

In answer, Thomas slapped his belly playfully. They tussled back and forth until Thomas yanked aside the blanket that had given them a bit of privacy.

Elsie set the broom against the wall. "Good morning, you two," she greeted them with a smile, moving to the hearth. "Did you sleep well?"

There was no indication of what had happened, other than a rosy blush on her face. And a rather cheeky glimmer in her eye.

"Yes," Edward replied. He leaned over the hearth and blew on the small fire so it grew. "Thank the gods the rain cooled the air a little."

Thomas did not understand how either his mate or his stepmother could act like nothing had happened. _A right pair, those two_ , he thought.

Edward of course looked as though he'd been carved from stone; his straight nose, the way he crossed his arms, his wavy hair. He was so beautiful he hurt Thomas's eyes. Elsie laughed at something Edward said as she kneaded the dough.

Though there were lines on her face and grey hairs mixed with the red on the crown of her head, there was an indescribable something about her that Thomas could not explain. It was like the first time he had seen her.

In the meadow as she watched the flock, he had thought she was perfect.

 _Even her flaws are beautiful._

"Thomas?" Elsie asked, breaking him out of his reverie. He blinked and hoped she hadn't caught him staring.

"Um – yes?" Had she been talking to him?

She seemed amused by his confusion, but thankfully she bit back her laugh. "Would you like raisins in the bread, or honey?"

"I said you could choose," Edward's mouth was full of figs. "I chose yesterday."

"Um…honey," he stuttered, happy she asked but embarrassed as he felt his face growing red again. "Thanks." _That sound Papa made…_

To save himself, he grabbed the bucket by the door and went outside to the well. He heard Papa humming from the pen as he milked the goats.

 _He's happy._

 _You know WHY._

Thomas set the bucket on the edge of the well and closed his eyes. How was he going to get through the day? Or, for that matter, the rest of the time he and Edward were home?

While the four broke their fast, an awkward silence lingered. Elsie glanced from Charles to Thomas and back again. Father and son kept their eyes down, avoiding looking at each other across the low table, giving the food their undivided attention. Edward gave her a tentative smile from his place next to Thomas.

Swallowing the rest of her fish, she argued with herself over whether to say anything.

 _I don't want to create a mood._

 _There is ALREADY a mood._

 _Neither of them will say anything. Edward is too polite._

 _If I stay silent, it will fester today, and maybe for the rest of the days the lads are home._

Sybil, she knew, would have gently teased Thomas about the early morning shenanigans. He would bluster (like his father), but then be able to laugh about it.

 _Sybil isn't here._

"Well," Elsie brushed bread crumbs off of her tunic, "You two don't get many chances at the king's hall to be together. It seems you enjoyed yourselves this morning."

Thomas's head shot up, his eyes wide. Charles choked on a piece of cheese. He coughed, his face growing red. Elsie could tell by her husband's expression that it was because he was appalled, not because he had food stuck in his throat.

A smirk danced across Edward's face. "It seems we weren't the only two." His eyes met Elsie's, and both of them started to laugh.

" _Edward!_ " Thomas groaned, slapping his hand on his forehead. He thought he would burn into ashes from the shame. From the look on Papa's face, he thought the same.

Charles spluttered and coughed again. His face was the color of the setting sun. "Not _here_ ," he muttered to Elsie, determined not to look at either Thomas or Edward.

 _Does she have no sense of privacy?_

She only laughed harder. "Oh, you old booby," she teased him fondly. Wiping tears from her eyes, she leaned against him. "We can hardly pretend they are children when they're _not_."

He opened his mouth to protest, then sighed. What was the use? It was true. Thomas and Edward weren't children – as much as he liked to think so at times.

As much as he still thought acknowledging the morning was improper, he did like hearing Elsie laugh. And her calling him _old booby_.

Even if she said it in front of the lads.

"Nor should we pretend you two don't love each other," Edward replied. He reached out and ruffled Thomas's hair.

It was true, Thomas thought. Not that he would ever admit it, but in a way he was glad Elsie had said something. It was in the open.

 _It is rather funny. Kind of._

He cracked a smile. Edward nudged him. "You and your papa are a right pair. You're fortunate the Divine Lady sent you both excellent mates."

"Fortunate indeed." Elsie's eyes sparkled, and she got up. Charles watched her carry the fish bones and other scraps outside.

"Very true," he finally murmured under his breath. The lads heard him, and grinned at each other.

* * *

Before going to the wedding, Charles and Elsie stopped in the meadow. Jimmy was watching the flock again. Alfred had already left to meet Jacob at his house, as had Thomas and Edward.

Daniel's younger brother Stephen sat with Jimmy.

"I'm glad you're here," Charles told him. "You can keep James company, and see how you really like watching flocks." He knew it was not for everyone.

"I like it here," the blond boy said. He scratched Nosi's ears. She rolled over. He rubbed her belly, and she sighed, happy. "There's lots to see."

"The scenery won't change," Jimmy muttered. He stuttered beneath Charles's glare. "But-but it is pretty here in the meadow. That's the truth."

"I will be back before sundown," Elsie promised him. She held hands with Charles. "You can go join the celebrations then, James. I know Jacob wants to see as many friends as he can." She smiled at Stephen, and Nosi, who crawled onto the boy's lap. "I see you've made a new friend."

He nodded, happily holding the dog.

"That is a good sign," Charles said to Elsie as they walked toward the stream. "If he had no interest in being a shepherd, she would know it."

"I only hope James remembers she is there to help watch the flock, not only to play with Stephen," Elsie said. "All the burden should not fall on the other dogs."

"Not much chance of that," Charles laughed under his breath. Nosi was spoiled, and they often let her get away with napping in the meadow, or chasing squirrels on the hill.

The tall grass rustled behind them, and they turned. It was Ve. He followed his master and mistress across the stream and around the wall, before running a little ahead of them.

"I should send him back. But Freya and the other two can watch without him for now. Ve, stay with us," Charles called. The dog came running back to them. A cluster of men stood near Jacob's house; in the distance, Elsie could see the bright vibrant colors of the women gathered in a field. Its wheat rippled gold. She kissed Charles on the cheek. Ve sniffed around her feet, and she petted him.

"I'll see all you lads in a bit. I do miss my girls," she sighed to Charles. She missed Sybil, and the wedding made her think of Anna's, when Daisy was still with them. "I am the only woman of the family here today."

"What a woman, though," Charles murmured, admiring her. She blushed at the rumble in his voice. He admired the dark green cloth on her billowing slightly in the breeze and squeezed her hand. "That dress was a gift from Sybil and Daisy. So they are with you, even now." They shared a sad smile. He lifted the shell necklace that hung around her neck. "You've been wearing this more often."

"I love it. It reminds me of Staithes, the time we had there," she said. "I must get on. I promised Emma I would be there before the women left."

She hurried off. Despite the good changes between Charles and Thomas, she had held to her promise from the previous autumn and had not told her husband of the necklace's origins. Charles believed it was a gift from Daisy, when it was really from Thomas.

The visit from her son had prompted her to wear it more often. She _did_ love it.

"Mistress Elsie!" cried Emma from the middle of the circle of women. She wore a white dress, like Anna had. There were purple posies in her blonde hair. "I am _so_ glad you are here!"

"May the Goddess bless you," Elsie took her hands and kissed her on the cheek, smiling. "You look lovely, my dear."

She ignored the whisperings around them, and the open staring from Emma's mother Gertrude. She was happy to greet familiar faces. Ivy was there, with Alfred's aunt Sarah. Jane was there, as well.

Four little girls cried while several women, Emma among them, tried to comfort them.

"What is the matter?" Elsie asked Jane under her breath. Emma's mother argued with a younger woman who was clearly her daughter.

"Mistress Gertrude doesn't want Emma's nieces to come with us women," the farmer told her. "She said they were too young, and they should go wait with their father." A brown-haired man, visibly uncomfortable, held the hand of a small boy nearby.

"What does Emma say?" Elsie asked sharply. "If _she_ wants the girls to come with us, then she should get the final word."

"Mistress Gertrude thinks she should have the final word," Ivy said, her hands on her hips, her eyes angry. "Even if the bride wants something different."

The other women around them seemed to disagree, but no one had the courage to contradict the bride's mother. Sarah looked as though she had bitten a hole in her tongue.

Elsie could imagine what Petunia and May, Jacob's mother and aunt, would say if they were there. "We'll see about that," Elsie glared at Gertrude. "Someone needs to tell the girls' father to take their brother and go join the men. Ivy, come with me."

She walked over to the girls. "Why are you crying, little ones?" She crouched down so to be at their level, touching one curly-haired youngster on the cheek, and another's hand.

They stared at her, even as they wailed. "G-granny doesn't want us to-to _go_ ," a taller brown-haired girl finally choked out. One of her little sisters hiccupped, tears dripping off her chin.

"And what Mum says, is what happens." Emma finished. She looked glum. "It's better to let her get her way." She glanced at her sister and her mother. "Matilda tried to argue with her before _her_ wedding, and Mother went into a rage. I don't want that…"

Elsie felt ready to go into a rage herself. _Gertrude has NO right to make this day about her._

Thankfully, Sarah had quickly persuaded Emma's brother-in-law to join the men. They were already walking towards the house.

"Come on," Elsie said, forcing a smile. She took the hands of the two girls nearest her. "Dry your tears. How exciting, to come with your aunt while she goes to meet her husband! You all will be quite grown up today."

A woman with a wrinkled face began singing slowly, and the women began to circle around Emma. All of them were keen to move forward.

"What is the meaning of this?" Gertrude asked, as she saw the procession beginning. "Mattie, I _told_ you to send the girls with their father-"

"They won't be with him," Sarah told the irate woman. "They're coming with us. Now, if you want to come with your daughter and see her get married, please do. But if you're going to sulk, you can stay here. With Jacob's cows."

On cue, one of the big brown animals mooed behind her.

Mattie sighed in relief, kissed Emma on the cheek, and began singing. Sarah smirked as she joined Ivy in the circle.

Huffing out an outraged breath, Gertrude stood still as the group moved away. Elsie looked back only once.

She was glad when the bride's mother hurried to join them.

Jacob and Emma were married beneath an elm tree in the field nearest Jacob's house. The couple looked incredibly happy to Charles as they said their vows.

The crowd murmured when two doves flew onto a branch above their heads. "A good omen, from the Divine Lady," Elsie heard an old woman whisper. She smiled to herself.

Guests ate roasted lamb and sweet bread as the afternoon went on, and danced in a field by the house. All the guests, but none more so than the bride and groom, were ecstatic to have extra wineskins sent to them. They were a surprise gift from the King and Queen of Grantham.

"You are blessed to have a wife you love," Charles said to Jacob, congratulating his neighbor. "May you grow old together."

"Thank you," Jacob beamed. Though he wore a short brown beard, it did not hide his youth. "We are thankful to have you and Mistress Elsie living so close by." He cleared his throat, while the shepherd waited. "I know the two of you have not been married long, but you have a bond that my parents never had. I hope Emma and I can be that close someday."

The young man's words moved Charles. He knew Jacob remembered when Alice was still alive. The fact that he praised Charles and Elsie's union mattered a lot.

 _It is not just our family that sees us_ , he thought. _Our neighbors, too._

"You will be," he toasted Jacob with his cup of wine. "Remember the vows you made to each other. On cloudy days, as well as sunny ones."

He and Jacob glanced over to where their wives were chatting gaily. Elsie felt him looking, and smiled back. It took a moment for Emma to turn and see Jacob. She waved at her new husband, her light blonde hair framing her face.

"He loves my nieces and nephew," she said to Elsie. "And they love him already as an uncle. I adore them – I've hardly spent a day apart from all of them since they were born. I know they won't be _too_ far away. Mattie told me they want to visit again as soon as they can. And Mum says she'll bring them here whenever they ask."

 _Which they will do frequently, as they would rather spend time with you_ , Elsie thought.

"How do you feel about that?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "It's wonderful that you are so close with them. That should not change."

"Of course," Emma sipped her wine, looking a little guilty. "It's just Jacob and I have had no time together on our own, and while I do want them to come here, I don't want them visiting too soon." She blushed.

"I understand," Elsie confided in a low voice. She knew all too well how preoccupied newlywed couples could be. "If they visit at a time when you are…busy, send them to our house."

"You wouldn't mind?" Emma brightened. "I know today is the first day they've met you, but they liked you straight away. Especially after you stood up for the girls, and brought them along with the women."

"I don't mind at all! They're dear children." Elsie laughed when one of the little girls and her brother came up to her and dragged her off to go dance. She let them, happy that Emma could greet other guests – and dance with Jacob.

Thomas and Edward would be home for some days, but Elsie knew she and Charles would be lonely later in the summer. There was little chance for them to see the lads or Sybil before the Harvest Festival, and none after.

Standing in the shade beneath the elm, Charles talked to Richard.

"It is always uplifting to see a young couple begin life together," the healer said. "Though the more time goes by, I know the closer the time will come when it will be Ivy's turn. It makes me feel old." He smiled ruefully. "That's life, I suppose."

Charles felt his heart skip at the thought of Ivy getting married. Not that he was surprised or disappointed; it had been clear for some time what Alfred's intentions were.

But it made him think of Daisy. Of the life she could have had.

Richard went off to dance with his niece. Charles leaned against the tree, watching the dancers. Two of Emma's nieces and her nephew skipped in a circle around Elsie. His wife's laughter reached his ears.

She picked the boy up, setting him on her hip and swinging him in a circle several time. He shouted gleefully, his little arms around her neck. Then she set him down with a kiss, turning to twirl with one of his sisters. An older boy approached them and asked the shepherdess for a dance. She accepted, curtseying as if he was the king.

A lump formed in Charles's throat.

 _She is so good with them._

"I hope my boy isn't bothering your wife," a deep voice said next to him. It was the farmer Tim.

Charles took a deep breath. "Not at all. If he was, she wouldn't be dancing with him." They watched Thomas and Edward dance past Elsie and Tim's son.

"She has a natural way with children," Tim observed. "Margie told me she helped with the little girls earlier. They're drawn to her. That's a gift from the Divine Lady."

"It certainly is," Charles agreed.

 _Eala knows when to give good gifts._

"My Margie is like that," Tim crossed his arms. "If she could, she'd take in every child without a home. She wants to love them, help them, the best she can. They can break your heart-" there was sadness in his eyes, "-but they are worth it."

Charles was quiet for a moment. "You lost a daughter to the fever in the spring, too."

"We did," the man clasped his hands together. "And not a day goes by when we both don't think of her. Our lives are made happier by the children we've taken in. I know they were the farmer Bradford's children first, but it feels like they've been in our house forever. Our new daughter and son cried when we told them they would have a younger brother or sister in the autumn."

"Margie is carrying a child again?" Charles asked, raising his eyebrows. Tim nodded, a shy smile on his face.

"We didn't expect it - not so soon after all our sadness, anyway. Margie's overjoyed."

"I am happy for her," Charles smiled. "And for you."

"Thank you. We would've been happy with the ones we have. Our two boys, and our adopted son and daughter. It seems the Goddess had other plans for us."

Tim said no more. He could see the look in the shepherd's eyes, and that was enough for him to understand.

Elsie's laughter mingled with the young ones, the sounds drifting into the blue sky.

* * *

The days after Jacob and Emma's wedding settled into a comfortable pattern. Charles and Elsie took turns watching the flocks with the apprentices as usual, but Alfred and Jimmy insisted on taking most of the watches at night, so the couple could spend more time with Thomas and Edward.

The lads made a habit of going off by themselves each day. Otherwise, though, they stayed at home. One day, Edward helped Elsie bake bread. Thomas watched them, eating figs and feeding every other one in his hand to Nosi.

Nearly every early morning and evening, Thomas, Edward, and Charles went fishing. Elsie loved the sound of their voices drifting up the hill from the lake. Charles laughed uproariously after he'd slipped on the bank one evening and tumbled in, his lads having to fish him out.

"I'm sure _I'm_ the biggest fish they ever caught, or ever will catch," he grinned, his hair dripping.

"Without a doubt," Thomas held his side. There was a large muddy spot on his tunic. "We'll never catch a fish that pulls both of _us_ in while we try to get it out!"

Elsie laughed helplessly at the sight of all three of them soaked to the skin.

She was thrilled when the lads came back from Downton one morning with rare, purple cloth. "This is too much." She gasped. "You should save your wages for yourselves."

"But do you like it?" Edward asked, his eyebrows furrowed. She melted.

"I _love_ it. I couldn't ask for better sons," she said, hugging them both. She turned her head so to pretend she didn't see either of their emotion.

The cloth would be woven into a blanket, she decided. Its color would look good in autumn.

 _Whenever any of the children are home, they will have something warm to cover themselves when there's a chill in the air._

They read Sybil's letters, and sent ones back to her. The court was in a frenzy preparing for the King of Carlisle.

One night as the moon rose, Charles was surprised during the watch when Elsie and his lads joined him. They stayed until the sky was covered with stars. Edward sang several songs, his clear voice floating in the air on the hills. Thomas told stories. Some were ones he had heard at court. Others were old tales.

Charles listened to his son telling stories of the gods with no little wonder.

 _I did not know he was listening all the time. At times I thought I was talking to a stone wall._

 _Once, I told_ _ **him**_ _the ancient fables. He remembered._

 _Now I am the one listening._

Five days before their return to court, the lads decided to take a long walk through the abandoned eastern meadows. The day was not as hot as previous ones, and big puffy clouds floated slowly across the morning sky.

"It might rain," Charles warned them. Thomas nodded, swallowing the rest of his potato.

"We're not worried about that. As long as it's just a short rain, we shouldn't get too wet. Not as wet as falling in the lake," he raised his eyebrows.

Groaning, Charles rolled his eyes. "You are _never_ going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Never," Thomas and Edward said together. Thomas's mouth twitched, and it took all his control not to laugh out loud. Charles shook his head, smiling.

"I'm sorry to leave you alone," he said to Elsie as he went out the door. He wrapped an arm around her waist. "But James needs a rest until midday at least. And Nosi is getting lazy."

"Laz _ier_ ," she corrected.

His lips lingered on hers. "Go," she hummed, pushing him a little, her eyes dark. "Before I change my mind and keep you here. Never mind our spoiled dog and the sheep. And Charles-" She raised herself up on her toes to whisper in his ear. "As soon as James takes over the watch, come back to me." She nodded silently towards the lads, who were talking to each other.

He understood.

 _They won't be back until later, near sunset._

He walked out to the hill, a spring in his step, whistling for Nosi.

Edward went outside to fill water skins. Thomas folded a cloth around a loaf of bread by the warm hearth. It smelled delicious.

Not like the acrid smell that reached his nose a moment later.

"Here," Elsie said quickly, handing over the cheese. "It's finished. It's burnt – _again_ ," she shook her head in frustration. "I never can make cheese without burning it."

"It's fine," Thomas took it from her and added it to the bundle. Only the corners were bad. His stepmother had burned cheese before they had had to give to the goats.

"Do you have enough? Edward said he caught fish this morning…there they are," she ran a hand through her hair, biting her lip. The shells around her neck clicked together. "What about figs? I'll get you some."

She darted around him to where they were stored.

Her concern amused Thomas. "We have plenty of food. And water."

"Good," she grinned. "It is going to be hot out there. There's not much shade, even with the clouds."

"I know." He took the little bag of figs from her. "We'll stop and rest often. We won't faint out there, and we'll be back before the evening meal. You and Papa do not need to worry about us."

"Easier said than done." She banked the fire, putting most of it out. Thomas gathered up all the food. Just before he left, he turned.

Putting an arm around her shoulder, he gave Elsie a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Mother."

He had never called her that before.

It was said awkwardly. But he meant it, and she knew it.

She leaned on the hearth after Thomas had gone out, and cried for joy.

 _My dear boy. You will never know how much I love you._

She knew how he cared for her, and it made her whole being sing.

* * *

In the abandoned pastures east of the meadow, there was not much to look at. And yet there was a beauty there, if one looked with open eyes.

Large rocks sparkled in the sun. Some were a more pink color, others a brownish-red. Dry heather and gorse were scattered to the horizon. Rabbits ran from them. An occasional sparrow flew over their heads, but otherwise they were alone beneath the broad sky.

They stopped to rest next to a large boulder with golden flecks in it.

"Why is it so empty here?" Edward asked. He chewed on his bread and cheese, passing Thomas a water skin. "The land isn't barren. I've seen a map of Grantham in the palace. This place is nearly a fifth of the kingdom!"

They could see a stone hut with a ripening crop further east, but to the north, the dwellings that were scattered few and far between were lost in the shimmering haze. Westward, there were farms and shepherd's flocks that followed the river.

To the south, there was nothing.

Thomas took a long drink of water. The breeze cooled the air, but it was still hot. "Farmers say the ground is too thin. There's no trees here – if a crop did grow, any thunderstorm would destroy it. Shepherds say there's not enough for their flocks to eat. In the autumn enough rain falls to make a fine layer of grass to grow. That's why Papa herds the flocks out of the meadow."

"It's the only time he can."

"Yes. By Midsummer, the spring floods and the heat have either drowned the grass or withered it away." Thomas held up several dead pieces of grass, yellow and brittle.

Nodding, Edward swallowed the last of his cheese. "It all makes sense. Though the reasons are all a little boring." The corners of his lips turned up. "Your story-telling the other night made me wonder if there wasn't another reason for this vast land to be empty."

"Well…" Thomas smiled. "There's what the farmers and shepherds say, and then there's what others say." He was glad to indulge his mate. He would have told the story to him and the others under the stars, if Elsie had not apologized and gone to bed. "Do you see that mountain to the south? The one nearest us?"

Edward shielded his eyes with his hand. The mountain was the northernmost of the range. It was by far the biggest, soaring over its smaller brothers that curved southwest to the horizon. "How far is it from us?"

"It's in Merton. It's two days from here – as the sparrow flies. Most people don't travel that way. The road will get you to its foot in four days. There's a big town there, Grey Lake, in its shadow. The crossroads leading to Crowborough is near to the lake."

Looking into the distance, Edward squinted. He knew all this. And he knew Thomas knew he knew. "What does the mountain have to do with where we are? It's a _mountain_."

"Sure. It's just a mountain." Thomas settled himself with his back against the boulder. "The story is, though, that before there ever were people living in Grantham or Merton, a god lived beneath the mountain. The God of Fire."

Edward turned, partly to shield himself from the sun, and also to pull his knees up to his chin. He loved the storyteller side of Thomas.

And from what he could tell, his mate loved it too.

"He was known as the Iron Hammer then. The gods had cast him out of their perfect kingdom – why, I don't remember. He came to the mountain and made a forge deep underground. They say birds fled from trees on the highest peaks when he was there. The earth shook, even far away.

"Sometimes when he was angry, fire would rise all the way from his forge to the top of the mountain, and burst out like water. When that happened, the trees were set on fire, and the mountain glowed orange. The fire would burn its way down and flow onto the land. It burned everything in its path, cracking the ground open and flinging ash everywhere. It wouldn't stop until the Master of Fire had calmed.

"After, instead of being dead, the land grew more green and ripe than ever. Some say it's because the other gods hated it when the Fire God destroyed the earth. They wanted to repair what he'd done.

"Many years after coming to the mountain, the Fire God went away. The land had peace.

Thomas leaned forward, closer to Edward.

"When people first came to Merton and moved north, they filled this whole plain. All the way from the mountain to north, where the river has its headwater near the king's palace in Grantham. There were rich farms and green pastures, farmers, shepherds, tradesmen. Towns, and wealth. Everyone wanted to come here.

"Among the gods, though, trouble brewed. The Fire God and the God of War had fought together as friends during a war. The God of War took all the glory for himself. It made the Iron Hammer furious. What was more, the Warrior had taken the Divine Lady as his lover. The Master of Fire _hated_ her. Because she was beautiful, and mocked him in front of the other gods.

"She and the God of War taunted the Fire God. They said that their strength together would be more than enough to subdue him, even as his temper raged. The Fire God captured them in a net, but they escaped and vowed to bring all the gods to fight him.

"Roaring with fury, the Fire God returned to his forge beneath the mountain. The goddess Athena followed him, and begged him not to be provoked. That the people would suffer most in a war between the gods. He didn't listen.

"He struck his hammer again and again in his forge. Fire burst from the top of the mountain, taking one of its peaks with it. Ash blocked the sun. Then it fell on the people below. Many died in the flaming ash, or while they tried to flee. Fire flowed down the mountain. It burned everything in front of it, but it didn't slow – not even when men dug long lines in the ground to keep it back.

"It flowed onto the plain and came north all along here," Thomas gestured with his hand. "Farther and farther. Nothing was spared. Finally, the King of the Gods himself intervened. He grabbed the Fire God and chained him, saying that he had destroyed too much. He kept the Fire God imprisoned in his own palace for a long time. Keeping him from hurtling his fire onto the earth.

"But people remember. They call this land cursed. For years and years, few people have dared to settle here. They say if they do, the Fire God will see it as defiance. Then the ground will shake with the god's hammer. Fire will rain from the mountain, and people will live at the mercy of the god's wrath once again."

Edward let out a breath. A sparrow landed on the boulder, chattering cheerfully. "That's quite a story," he said. "Similar to ones I've heard from the priestesses. And from those who like to frighten small children around a fire at night."

Thomas grinned. "That's when I first heard it. May told it to me and Jacob. Jacob was terrified of the Fire God for an entire autumn…his mum wasn't happy. For a while, I didn't want to sleep anywhere close to the hearth. Of course, it didn't keep me from telling Daisy the story when she was old enough to hear it."

They both laughed. "Did you scare her?" Edward rolled up the bundle. It was full of nothing but bread crumbs.

"Yes, and I was punished for it. I don't know _why_ ," Thomas shrugged, his face innocent. "I may have told her the Fire God watched us through the fire, and was waiting to burn the house down when we all were asleep, but for some reason Papa was angry with me for telling her that…"

"You wicked," Edward slapped him on the back, chortling. "You weren't a very nice older brother."

"Not as nice as I could have been." It hurt to think of Daisy – it would always hurt – and yet, Thomas looked back on those days with fondness.

 _She scared ME at Harvest Festival the next year, leaping out of a barrel of wine._

 _We had good times together._

 _I will always have those memories._

They got up and walked on further south, lost in their own thoughts.

"You used to not believe in the gods at all," Edward said quietly. "What do you think now?"

Thomas swallowed. "I always believed in them. Even when I pretended I didn't." He laughed a little under his breath. "Do you know what's funny? That story I told used to be my favorite. Not just because I scared my little sister with it. But now when I think about it, so much of it seems _wrong_."

"The God of War and the Master of Fire seemed right to me," Edward mused. "At least, they are similar to what I've heard from priestesses and holy men."

"But not the Divine Lady," Thomas laughed again. It was ironic. He had thought the worst of Eala not long before. Now he defended her.

 _Papa would be overjoyed._

"It doesn't seem to fit her nature. She's vain, by all the accounts, but I never heard a story of her taunting anyone, much less the God of Fire. I don't think she's ever spoken of him at all."

"I've never heard of that either," Edward said. "And what about the Revelation that came last summer? That the Goddess of Love is betrothed to the Master of Fire? That doesn't sound like he hates her. Quite the opposite."

Stopping to drink from the water skin again, Thomas looked toward the mountain. At the peaceful heather that rustled in the breeze. The rabbit that sat up, its nose quivering.

"Who knows?" He handed the water skin to Edward. "The last time fire came from the mountain, it was almost a thousand years ago. Maybe the Master of Fire married the Divine Lady long ago." He sighed. "There are much nearer things to worry about than whether an old mountain will suddenly come to life."

"Like whether Ethan is still standing, or if Master Henry's killed him with too much work," Edward joked. Thomas snorted through his nose, shaking his head.

"Poor lad. He'll want to kiss _me_ when we get back."

They walked on in a wide loop, circling further east before heading back north towards home. A cloudburst rained on them once. It freshened the air.

* * *

Elsie lay gasping in Charles's arms. She raised her head and kissed him again, nipping his lower lip.

"Mmmm," he rumbled, trying to catch his breath. "Wife, you are a wonder."

"You are marvelous to me, husband." She brushed the backs of her fingers against his cheek. Her smile was dreamy.

Reluctantly, he rolled off her. They cuddled together in the afternoon heat. It felt to Elsie like it was going to rain. She hoped it would.

 _We can go out when it does. Cool ourselves._

 _Make it less obvious when our boys get home._

She smelled Charles on her.

"Did Thomas really call you 'Mother'?" He asked softly, linking his fingers through hers. "I…never thought he would do that."

"He did," she smiled, tears starting in her eyes. "It meant more to me than I thought it would."

Charles kissed her. "I won't say anything to him. That is between the two of you. But I am happy." His breath hitched. "-So very happy for you. And him. You'll have to write to Sybil."

"I will," she sighed, brushing her eyes with her fingers. "This is what she has wanted since she came here, and knew I loved you. For all of us to be a family. We were before, I know, but-"

"But now we know it. It means everything." He embraced her, feeling joy over Thomas, happiness that Edward was with them, sadness that Sybil was not, and grief that Daisy never lived to see it.

"I love them," Elsie murmured against his shoulder. "Our children. The two-legged ones, as well as the furry ones," she joked, and they both laughed. "Our family. You," she breathed. "I don't want anything else."

She dozed off in his arms, a smile on her face.

Charles pulled a strand of hair over her ear.

He knew she would not lie to him, and yet he felt a twinge of doubt.

 _Do you say that because you mean it? Or because you want to put my heart at rest?_

He thought he knew the answer.

* * *

 **A/N: Posting this in haste. It's long, I know. And it's an information dump.**

 **For those of you who don't know, I am now working full time once again. I will do my darndest to update this story regularly. The bad news is, I don't have near the time I used to. The good news is, the next six or so chapters are fairly well outlined, so I shouldn't have too much trouble writing them. I have no idea how long they will be, or when they'll get posted, but I do want to stick to the plan. I need discipline now, more than ever!**

 **I am sorry for not responding to reviews like I should. I will try to do that as much as I can as things go forward. I do love all your comments and feedback! Please continue to tell me what you think – your reviews give me LIFE! Even the "I loved it" short ones.**

 **Cheers, friends! It is still summer here, but not for long. :)**


	75. The King of Carlisle

**A/N: Wow, you guys. I totally missed mentioning it last chapter, but…over five** _ **hundred**_ **reviews!? When this AU story began, I had no idea how many people would like it. It's not everyone's cup of tea. (Which is fine. Some people prefer coffee.) You all keep me going, you really do. You all ROCK, and I love you!**

 **For reference, the time period of this chapter is about one month from beginning to end.**

* * *

The air was thick before dawn. It was warm, though the night air had cooled it somewhat.

Edward's face glowed in the light of the torch Charles held.

"Write as often as you can," the shepherd said. "We want to know how you are. If there is anything you need, please ask."

"Thank you. For everything, Master Charles," the young man said. "This has been the nicest time I can remember. I wish we could stay longer."

"We do too." Charles spoke sincerely. "But we are glad the king let you both visit for as long as you did." He hesitated a moment, then reached out and put his hand on Edward's shoulder. "You are part of this family. As much as Thomas and Sybil are. I would be honored…if you called me Papa."

He knew the young man was already comfortable calling Elsie Mother.

Edward blinked very hard, a smile breaking across his handsome face. "If you like. Papa."

The word coming from him made Charles's heart warm.

 _I had one son._

 _Now I have two._

They embraced a little awkwardly. "I know you'll look after Thomas," Charles told him. "I told him to do the same for you. And both of you keep an eye on Sybil, as often as you can."

"We will."

Elsie and Thomas stood nearby in the semi-darkness.

"I promised myself I wouldn't cry," Elsie smiled. Despite herself, she felt tears welling up. "You will be close by, I know, but I will miss you." She hugged him close.

"And after trying for so long to make you hate me," he joked. He didn't want her to cry. "I suppose I failed."

She choked out a laugh and kissed him on the cheek. "Spectacularly. I could never hate you. No matter what you do."

He heard her smile. It gave him a lump in his throat.

 _She means it._

"I'll write whenever I get a chance. Even if it's only a few lines," he promised, holding her hands. He was glad it was dark, so she would not see his chin wobble. "Edward and I will look after Sybil. We won't let her work too hard."

"Thank you," she murmured. Then she pulled him into another hug. "That one is for your sister."

"I will pass it on," he grinned. Elsie did give good hugs. "I…I'll miss you, too."

"At least give me a _chance_ to be the favorite," Edward grinned, nudging him in the back.

Laughing, Elsie wiped away her tears and embraced Thomas's mate.

To Thomas's surprise, his papa shook his hand first, then pulled him into a hug.

"I am very proud of you," Charles whispered. "Remember that. Write us whenever you can. Likely we won't see you until the Harvest Festival."

Thomas had trouble speaking. _Now I really AM going to cry._ "Thank you…the festival will come soon," he choked out. "You and Mother will be busy with the flocks. And spoiling Nosi." That made them both smile. "Rest when you can, Papa," he said in a serious voice. "You don't have to do everything yourself…Master Richard told me when you work too much, your hands shake more."

"I have Elsie to help me. And the lads." Charles felt a surge of love for his son. _I used to look after him, now he looks after me._ "You try to rest, too. The king and his guests will have you running all through the days, and half the nights."

"I will."

"May the gods keep you both," Charles said as Edward picked up the bundle of food next to the well.

"You too," Thomas answered. He gestured towards the bundle. "Is there-"

"Honey bread?" Elsie nodded. "Yes."

"Thanks!"

"And burnt cheese?" Edward asked. "It would not be a proper send-off if we didn't have your cheese."

Elsie laughed again, but it was forced. "Yes, there is cheese there too. I cut away the worst parts." She blew them a kiss, feeling a tear run down her cheek.

Thomas and Edward trudged down the hill. When they reached the road, they looked back. Charles stood behind Elsie, his hands on her hips. They both waved. The lads waved back.

Elsie leaned back into Charles's arms. "I am foolish, I know," she whispered. "The Harvest Festival is not long from now…and our children are not far away." She sniffed. "But I miss them, Charles, when they're gone. Every time they come home it's harder to watch them leave again."

"I know." He kissed the top of her head gently. "We have to let them go. Like sparrows flying from the nest."

She knew that. She did not know why she was so upset – the boys, as she thought of them, had come and gone more than once since she and Charles married. As had Sybil.

In the divine realm, sometimes _years_ had passed in between the times she saw her daughter.

 _But that is different,_ she told herself. _Immortality means time matters little._

 _It is not as though I have to worry about her when we are both in divine form._

What she felt for her boys and her mortal-form daughter was different. She loved them, both with the unfathomable depth of the Goddess, and as a woman. A mother who simply missed her children when they were not there.

And there was worry, too.

 _Now I know how mortal mothers feel._

 _They have to live without their grown children about, trying not to worry if they eat enough, or if they're looking after themselves._

Charles held his wife as she cried. Nosi, who had run after Thomas, slowly padded up the hill again. Elsie scooped her up and held her close. The dog licked her face.

"I love you too, dear one," the shepherdess murmured.

* * *

Outside the sweltering hot kitchen at the king's hall, Thomas and Edward saw Sybil. She gave a cry of delight and threw her arms around Thomas. He swung her in a circle, setting her down, only to have Edward do the same thing.

"I _missed_ you two!" She said standing in between them, holding on to each of their arms. "Every day, I wished I was with you all, but I am _so_ glad you got to go home for a while!"

She almost sounded like she was going to cry.

 _Like mother, like daughter_ , Thomas thought.

"We wished you were there too," he told her. "I almost forgot – " he hugged her again. "That was from Mother."

"Of course it was." She tucked a stray hair back, her eyes gleaming. The fact that he had referred to her mother as _his_ mother had not escaped her. But she said nothing to him about it.

 _How you have changed, my brother._

The three of them walked together towards Lady Mary's rooms. It was difficult going. There were more people than ever swarming in the courtyard, and going up and down the stairs. Edward wondered aloud how they were going to fit everyone when the King of Carlisle arrived. Even with half of Robert's guards, nearly all of Rosamund's, and all of Bertie's in Downton.

"Lord Anthony of Gillingham is leaving in the morning," Sybil told them. She stopped on the stair to let a washerwoman pass with a basket. "That will help."

"He's giving up his offer to Lady Mary?" Thomas asked. Part of him was surprised. Another part of him was glad.

 _I thought he was an idiot._

 _Good-looking and polite, but an idiot._

"Yes," his sister said. "Though she likes him, and he definitely likes her. Henry of Shackleton is still here, too. Of course everything could change when the King of Carlisle arrives."

"What do you think she will do?" Edward leaned on the wall behind his narrow stair, letting the washerwoman pass him. Sybil grinned at him through narrowed eyes.

"You know I would never betray her confidence about which man she prefers."

"I had to _try_ to get an answer out of you," he teased. She shook her head.

"No one will."

Before they reached Lady Mary's rooms, they ran into Ethan. He pulled at his thick blond hair, his eyes frantic.

"Thank the gods you're back," he said to Thomas. "Master George wants _another_ ride up and down the stairs before midday, I can't get the rooms for Carlisle clean enough for Master Henry, and he said if I spill ink on another scroll I'm done for-"

"Breathe, Ethan," Thomas patted him on the back. He exchanged a look with Edward. "Sybil said you have done well."

"And you have," she told Ethan.

"Thanks," the lad muttered. "It's just too much, doing all _your_ work as well as mine, and Roland snapping at me to carry some of Edward's load too."

"I'll have a word with him. Come with me," Edward gestured at him, and the two went back down the stairs.

"I can hardly blame him for being overburdened." Thomas commented. "I _might_ have exaggerated his abilities to Master Henry- _ow!_ "

Sybil had slapped him on the arm. "You should not have done that," she raised an eyebrow. "But Ethan did bring some of it on himself…he was eager to try and take your place. Not that anyone could, especially with Master George. And almost everyone's been taking out their strain about the upcoming visit on him. Even the cook."

"What about you?" Thomas held out his hand to stop her at the top of the stairs. "What about your strain?" It had not escaped him that his sister looked – not worn down, exactly, but like she carried a burden herself.

 _I hope Lady Mary remembers she is a young woman, not a goddess._

"I am fine," Sybil looked in his eyes. "Really. _Really_ ," she repeated, seeing her brother's unconvinced expression. "Just a little tired. The king is doing his best to keep an even keel, but everyone is on edge waiting for the mighty Richard, King of Carlisle, to arrive. The court's never had someone like him come here."

Thomas put two and two together. "Is Lady Mary taking out her worry on you?"

"No. Not directly…" Sybil bit her lip, studying her hands. "But she is snapping at a lot of people. She made Madge cry yesterday."

"And you're trying to keep the peace."

"I'm not succeeding." She gave him a wan smile. "I will keep trying. Come on, let's go see Master George."

* * *

The wooden shutters had been thrown open on either side of the queen's rooms. It was almost pleasant with the breeze passing through them, though Thomas could feel it growing warmer. He stepped out of the way as George and Marigold ran behind him and the king again. The little ones were chasing Drini around the edges of the room. Their laughter and the dog's barking lightened the mood.

Mary, Edith, Rosamund, and Cora enjoyed the children's antics. Sybil was glad to see it, as she sat in the corner with several other servants, sewing a dress. She wished the king would take notice of his grandchildren. But he was preoccupied as he read a scroll.

"Brigands on the borders of Crowborough and Merton," Robert muttered, his brow furrowed. "They picked farms clean, burned a fishing village…violated women," his voice sunk to a whisper as he glanced at the smiling women in his family. "Dickie says he sent fifty of his best men after them, and they simply vanished. Both the brigands, _and_ his men. People are coming into Grey Lake with tales of finding abandoned water skins, spears, and swords...what _has_ been seen are a dozen horses left riderless. But they were wild. Dickie says several men tried to herd them, but one man was kicked in the head by a stallion. He died. They let the others go…the animals fled into the wilderness north of the mountains."

The hair on the back of Thomas's neck stood up. " _All_ of the King of Merton's men vanished, milord?" he asked. _That can't be right._ "Surely at least one man would have survived an ambush."

"One would think so," Robert sighed. "It is strange. Bertie received a letter from his mother this morning. She wrote that it seems the outlaws have left Hexham, but she thought they had simply moved on."

Bertie was in the rooms he and Edith shared, talking to his steward.

Thomas's heart sank. "If she's right, the same men who were there could have gone north. They could be in Merton, or-"

"Or here." Robert rubbed his face. "Carlisle will arrive at the hall in two days. He wrote to say that he had warned his guards to be even more vigilant along the road, and that he sent some men south to help Dickie."

"That is good of him." Thomas raised his voice over the noise of the children, who were shrieking with laughter.

"It would be better if he turned and went home," the king snapped. "This is getting beyond a few random outlaws. Parts of Carlisle's kingdom have been attacked as well, though I suppose it's hardly fair for me to blame him for leaving home when Bertie did the same. But Carlisle has the most men to gather against an enemy, seen or unseen. If _he_ were to go after these outlaws, these brigands, I doubt he would come back empty-handed."

 _Maybe not._ Thomas could see the strain on Robert's face. "Milord, maybe he will be of more help here. With you and the King of Hexham, the three of you might be able to figure out what's going on."

"Perhaps." Robert sounded doubtful. "But he is not coming here to discuss the troubles in various lands, or to attend a war council. His mind will be elsewhere." His eyes drifted across the room to the women.

He had never said anything definite about the reasons for Carlisle's visit to Thomas, but the young man was not stupid.

 _The King of Carlisle will give Lady Mary an offer of marriage._

 _She would be a fool to say no._

It made Thomas feel uneasy. Deep down, he knew why. Like Lady Edith had done when she married Bertie, if Lady Mary did agree to marry the powerful king, she would leave Grantham.

 _And Master George would go with her._

 _I don't want to be apart from him._

Would he be forced to say farewell to the boy?

Running along the wall, Drini turned and shot across the room to elude the children. Her sudden movement nearly knocked her master over. The king was forced to throw his arms out, dropping the scroll, and he stumbled into Thomas.

"ENOUGH!" Bellowed Robert, his face red. He pushed himself upright again. "I – SAID – NO – _RUNNING!_ "

He almost never shouted – certainly never at the children.

The room went completely still. Drini faced the king and bared her teeth. George skidded to a stop, his eyes wide. Marigold bumped into her cousin's back, fell over, and started to cry.

Edith rushed to her daughter and scooped her up. "Shhhh…" she tried to comfort her weeping little girl.

Cora, Mary, and Rosamund looked shocked. George's lower lip was trembling.

Taking a deep breath, Robert ran a hand through his greying hair. "George," he began, his voice sounding quieter than normal. "I…I am sorry. I should not have shouted at you and Marigold."

"No, you should _not_ have," Cora's eyes were narrowed. She was nearest to her grandson, and reached for him. He scurried over to her, and buried his face in her neck.

"G-gan," he choked out, his name for her, his shoulders shaking.

Thomas picked up the dropped scroll and rolled it up. He glanced at Sybil. Her eyes were on the king, with disapproval and pity mixed in her expression.

Robert knelt on the floor and held out his hands to George. "Please forgive me."

The boy snuffled against his grandmother's shoulder. With a smile and encouraging nod from Mary, he went and hugged the king. Edith set Marigold down and she hugged her grandfather, too.

He kissed them both on the head. "Donk acted like a stubborn donkey," he said, getting to his feet, holding each of the children by the hand.

"More like Cousin Agatha," Rosamund spoke up. "Like a shark."

Robert gave Cora a horrified look. "Did I?"

She gave him a reassuring smile. "Not quite."

"Not _nearly_ that bad," Edith chimed in. "You know Cousin Agatha came along with Rose and Atticus when they visited us in Hexham last summer. She was…frightening. Poor Marigold hardly said a word for weeks."

"I remember Shrimpy writing, saying he'd been there too," Robert frowned, bending to scratch Drini's ears. "I thought he kept his older sister in check."

"Not really. He seemed to want to spend as little time as possible with her. Usually when she'd start off in a tirade about something insignificant, he would grab Marigold and take her to the gardens. Often they would be there all through the afternoon, playing with Rose. Bertie and Atticus joined them when they got back from hunting… _I_ had to stay and entertain dear Agatha." Edith made a face.

"You make the life of a queen sound terrible," Mary muttered under her breath.

"Having to keep Cousin Agatha happy is the farthest thing from wonderful," Cora glanced at Rosamund, then at her younger daughter. "I don't envy you in the slightest."

"How are Rose and Atticus? They were sweet to come and see me on their way to Hexham." Rosamund smiled as Marigold handed her a wooden cat.

Edith went on, telling her aunt and the rest of her family about their cousin Rose and her husband. Thomas was glad to see Robert distracted. From Sybil's expression, so was she.

The weight of the scroll felt heavy in Thomas's hand. He glanced down at it.

 _Brigands appearing, disappearing…Merton's men gone._

 _And the King of Carlisle will be here in a few days._

* * *

 _Something is wrong._

Sybil felt it inside her. But she could not figure out what it was. Something was off-kilter; that she knew. The wisps of it that were breaking out – Mary's moods, spats between servants, even Robert's temper the day before – seemed clear to her. Some days before that, when Thomas was gone, George had thrown a small stone at a cat.

He loved animals. He had never done such a thing before.

Sybil could easily explain it all away as tension before the court expected a very distinguished guest. But there was more to it.

She simply did not know _why._

Tom had felt something wrong as well. He had not known what it was either.

One thing Sybil did know. Tom had promised to visit her while the lads were away.

He had never come.

She shivered despite the heat as she helped Madge and several other girls scrub the walls in Carlisle's rooms.

The Messenger was known as a trickster among the gods, but the words he spoke to his wife, he meant. He had never failed to keep his promises with her before.

 _Is this about Mother? Does the Master of Fire know about her and Charles?_

 _Does Grandfather know?_

 _Is He keeping Tom away?_

There were no signs of the King of the Gods' wrath. Indeed, there was no sign of _any_ god's displeasure. Fires burned in hearths and torches like normal; there had not been as much rain, but when it did come, it came without storms.

Sometimes Sybil would look up at the night sky, scouring the moon and stars for an answer.

 _Are you silent because there is nothing to tell? Or are you silent because you have been bound by a greater power?_

She did not know, and it wore on her.

When the Goddess of Love had wed the shepherd, the stars had whispered to each other. It had been apparent to not only the Goddess of Peace in mortal form, but the mortals themselves, that something had happened. Sybil remembered it well, remembering the servants talking around the fire under a sky of twinkling stars.

Now there were no signs of anything in the heavens.

She missed her husband. In his absence, she wanted desperately to speak with her mother. But she could not leave court, and she dared not write anything in a scroll.

 _What would I say?_

 _Maybe she feels it, too._

* * *

Rank on rank the guards came along the road. They were not in formation, but they walked quietly, holding their spears. There were wagons and chariots, male and female servants, and more horses than Charles had ever seen together. Except when he had gone to war.

The sheep were skittish on the hill, bleating into the early dawn. Charles moved among them. He put his hand on Old Sally's head.

"The King of Carlisle brings a lot of people with him," he told the ewe. "And animals. He will not trouble us." He glanced behind him at Elsie, who was standing with Jacob and Emma in front of the house. James had stumbled out of the hut beneath the huge oak tree, yawning, to watch the procession too.

Even Alfred had crept to the edge of the meadow to come look. Vyr was at his heels.

"Which one is the king?" Emma asked Elsie. "I thought he would be in the front, but all I saw were guards."

"I don't know." The shepherdess said truthfully. _If he had ever prayed to Me, I_ _would_ _know._ "Perhaps he went on ahead of the procession."

Suddenly, Freya rose from where she sat and began barking at the people passing by. A dog who had been quiet, sitting on the opposite side of the road with his human, began making a racket as well.

Hurrying over to Freya, Charles tried to calm her. "What is it?"

Nothing had changed. Wagons still rose by, and a bearded man holding the harness of a spirited white horse tried to keep it from wandering off the road.

At the top of the hill, Vyr joined her mother's barking.

 _Woof woof woof woof woof woof_

Nosi, who had been sitting in the doorway of the house, raced outside, snarling and barking.

 _Aaarrrrroooooooooooooooo_

Elsie almost laughed, but then she saw the fur on Freya's back standing up.

The hair on the back of _her_ neck stood up.

"Why are they all barking?" Jacob asked. He raised his voice to be heard over the din. "The procession looks the same ever since we started watching them pass!"

"They're not _all_ barking," Emma pointed. "Ve isn't."

Charles raised his eyebrows at Elsie, wondering if she knew something he did not. He was reassured when she shrugged.

But after he turned back around, she felt her heart beat faster. She could not speak with the dogs as she would have if she had been in divine form. Freya, though, was as clear as though she spoke in mortal, human words.

 _BEWARE!_

What worried Elsie was that the immortal dog was uncertain as the particular danger. Only that there _was_ something wrong.

Freya turned once and looked at her mistress. Then she went on barking.

 _Beware! Beware! Beware!_

* * *

Near the bridge in Downton, Phyllis shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Lily squirmed and wriggled in her mother's arms. A wagon creaked as it crossed the bridge, followed by several female servants.

Victor reached out, letting the baby grab his finger. He pulled away when she yanked it towards her mouth.

"No, no, little one," he bit his lip to keep from laughing. "My fingers are not for you to chew!"

At the sound of his voice, Kap turned around from his place next to Anna. He growled, baring his teeth.

"Shhh," Anna softly petted him. "Master Joe isn't going to hurt me, or anyone." She grinned at the blacksmith. "At least he doesn't chase you anymore."

"I'm glad of that," he muttered. "I'm too old to run." Andy and Daniel admired the Carlisle guards walking by.

Two of the butcher's dogs near them suddenly went wild, barking at the passing guards. John managed to shove his crutch in front of one of them before it charged into the road.

Kap sprang up from where he sat, swung his head around, and let out a never-ending stream of barking. Anna had to hold him back before John grabbed him. The butcher's older son had to wrestle one of their dogs to the ground.

A cacophony of barking was around them. Lily started wailing.

"I think I've seen enough. I'm going home," Phyllis called to Anna. She fled back towards her house with her crying daughter.

"Let's go back to the forge!" Andy yelled. Daniel followed him, and after a moment, Victor did too.

The hidden god looked back towards the road once more, his eyes narrowed.

 _What can you see that I cannot?_

 _What, or who is the danger?_

 _All of them?_

* * *

Servants were assembled in the courtyard. The gates stayed open, as more guards marched in, stood in formation, and held up their spears in salute.

Thomas was glad that the king and Lady Mary had decided not to have Master George with them. The boy was too young to stand in the hot, dusty courtyard. The king and queen of Hexham had decided to have Marigold stay with her baby brother David and her cousin in the children's rooms upstairs with their nurse.

Everyone who was deemed acceptable to greet the King of Carlisle was in the courtyard. Beside Thomas, Ethan kept fidgeting with his tunic. Thomas resisted the urge to thump him.

 _He's nervous._

 _So are you._

Despite the strain he had been showing, Thomas was impressed by Robert. The king stood calmly. He was ever the gracious host, going to meet the King of Carlisle when the man dismounted his horse.

It was not until Robert had gone to greet him that Thomas knew which man _was_ the king.

"Welcome to the Kingdom of Grantham," Robert said, extending his hand. "Your journey has been a long one, and we are honored by your presence here."

"The honor is all mine," Carlisle replied. He handed the reins of his speckled horse to a servant and shook Robert's hand. "I have heard much of your country, but the tales did not tell of half its beauty."

His face was lined, weathered with sun. His light hair was thinning on top. But from the way he walked, from the way he held himself, everyone could see this was a man who commanded respect.

 _He is a soldier_ , Thomas thought. _A warrior._

What was most interesting about him was his eyes. They shifted everywhere, from one person to the next. They saw everything, and missed nothing.

 _He knows the worth of a solid gold plate down to chaff left in a dusty road. From the King of Grantham down to the lowest serving boy._

It made Thomas feel on his guard. He was not used to seeing someone who was so obviously alert.

 _ **I**_ _used to be like that._

 _Before I started trusting people again._

The courtyard was mostly quiet, except for the whinnying of horses.

Robert and Carlisle were still exchanging pleasantries when Drini stood up, her fur standing on end. She growled at Cora's side, then she barked in the direction of the open gates.

Behind the kitchen, hidden from view, a storm of barking broke out from the kennels.

"What on earth-" Robert hastily turned and petted Drini. "Shhh, girl. _Shhhh_."

"She looks like a hunter," Carlisle commented. He looked more amused than offended, even when Drini snarled at him. She kept on barking.

"She is." Robert tried to calm his dog, but she only got more agitated. "Edward, take her to the kennels."

"Yes, milord," Edward stepped from his place and hurried to take the dog away. She calmed a little at his touch, but he had to block her from running toward the line of Carlisle's guards.

 _No_ , Sybil wanted to say. _Let her stay. She sees things we do not._

 _If only_ _ **I**_ _could see what is bothering her._

The dog was clearly agitated, but part of her barking was because the danger was not clear to her. Sybil understood that well enough.

She almost stepped forward, but caught herself at the last moment.

The dogs in the kennel gradually quieted.

"I am sorry about that," Robert apologized to his guest. "Drini is usually very gentle. We trust her completely with the children."

"Perhaps she is not used to strangers," the king of Carlisle said smoothly. "Good dogs are always loyal to their masters."

As Robert introduced him to the family, he greeted each one. He was polite to Cora, and spoke well of her brother Harold. Bertie and Edith greeted him courteously. They had hosted him in Brancaster not long after their marriage.

He spoke to Rosamund. "If the stories I have heard are true, you are the real ruler of Painswick," he said.

Robert's sister stiffened, her eyes cold. Whatever the truth, everyone knew she was very fond of her husband. "Marmaduke would not appreciate hearing such tales," she said, her voice curt. "I will make sure not to mention it in the next letter I write to him."

Carlisle had better luck with Mary. "Milady," he said softly, taking her outstretched hand, "I have heard much of your strength and wisdom. You are a credit to your father. Such qualities combined with grace and beauty make a rare woman, indeed."

The king's daughter rather doubted his compliment, but she was also pleased. "Thank you, your Lordship. I only want to do what is best for my family, and our kingdom."

He was certainly not a romantic man, Thomas thought. He seemed to struggle to give flowery compliments.

 _But then, does Lady Mary want that sort of man? Perhaps she prefers a realist._

"I had thought your son would be here," Carlisle was saying. "I would like to meet him."

"He's with his cousins now," Mary smiled at the mention of George. "You will meet him later today."

"You would probably like to rest," Cora said. "We have rooms prepared for you. Your manservant needs to know where they are."

"Thank you, your Ladyship, but I have no manservant with me," Carlisle looked at the queen, and at Robert. "My man took ill in Crowborough. I thought it best to leave him there, so he could recover. The road is no place for a man in pain."

"Of course," Robert softened. He exchanged a glance with Master Henry, who nodded. "My master of the household, Henry, will attend you while you are here."

"Thank you, but I do not wish to keep the master from his many duties," Carlisle gave Master Henry a polite smile. "I do not require a man at all times – please, a young man or a boy will be sufficient. To help me dress, pour my wine, to make sure my horse is ready when I go to ride."

Master Henry bowed. "In that case, Thomas will serve you, milord."

Thomas felt his heart race.

 _Serving Richard, the King of Carlisle!_

He tried to keep his nervousness from showing when Robert gestured to him. He stepped forward, meeting Carlisle's eyes.

The foreign king nodded in approval. "Thomas, is it?"

"Yes, milord," the young man said. He was very glad his voice did not crack.

Carlisle eyed him for a moment. "You will do."

He then thanked the king and queen once more, bowed slightly to Lady Mary, and started up the stairs behind Master Henry.

Thomas followed behind him, turning only to give Sybil a small smile.

He felt the eyes of the other servants on him. It was a great honor, of course, but he had the feeling serving the king would be one of the most difficult things he had ever done.

 _I cannot make any mistakes._

* * *

Around the fire that night outside the hall, there was no other talk among the servants other than their imposing guest.

"He looks like the sort of man who'd whip a boy for spilling wine, or ink," Ethan said, his eyes wide. "I'm glad _you're_ the one to serve him, not me!"

"Since I don't intend to spill wine or anything else around him, I won't have many worries." Thomas's voice was dry. The last thing he wanted was for Ethan to know just how daunted he really was.

Edward and Sybil were different. But in front of the other servants, he was all confidence.

"He carries himself well. The finest rider I've ever seen," he said honestly. "But he is just a man."

"An _older_ man," Sarah snorted. "Will Lady Mary take him? Not while Henry of Shackleton is still sniffing about her heels."

Henry had kept away from the king's arrival that morning. His manservant insisted it was because the family had welcomed Carlisle. Henry was merely a guest at court.

Everyone else believed he had stayed away because he was intimidated by the other man.

"But Henry's nothing compared to him," Madge argued. "He won't inherit Shackleton. If Lady Mary marries the King of Carlisle, she'll be a queen."

"She'll also have to leave Grantham. Which is something she does not want-" Sarah answered the girl.

"How would you know?" muttered Silas under his breath. Edward stifled a laugh.

"-and she especially won't want to take Master George away from his home." Sarah glanced up from her sewing at Thomas.

It made him uncomfortable that she seemed to know what he was thinking.

"If Lady Mary leaves, she would take her son with her," Edward stretched out his long legs. "But she would likely have him return here when he's a bit older."

"Send her son away?" Sarah shook her head. "She would never do that. She wouldn't want to be parted from him."

Thomas set down his water skin. "Maybe not. But if she does marry Carlisle, she could not expect Master George to grow up without knowing his own people."

"What do you think, Sybil?" Sarah asked. "What do you think of our notable guest?"

Sybil sat with her arms around her knees, staring into the fire. She was silent for so long Thomas wondered if she had heard the question. Other servants were talking, chattering around them.

"I do not like him."

Sybil's voice was quiet.

Still, everyone turned to stare at her.

"You like _everyone_ ," Sarah raised her eyebrows. She dropped her sewing into her lap. "What's wrong with him?"

There was a line between Sybil's eyes. "Nothing. I just…don't like him."

She blinked and looked up, seemingly surprised at all the eyes on her. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed." She smiled at Madge, then walked back up the hill towards the hall.

Slowly, the talk increased again. About Carlisle's guards, and the new stables being full of horses.

Thomas stretched. He waited long enough for Sarah to be thick in conversation with the cook, then he too left.

He had a feeling his sister had not gone to bed yet.

He was right.

"Usually I don't agree with Sarah, but she is right about you," Thomas said in a low voice outside the kitchen. He stopped talking when two of Carlisle's guards walked by, waiting to let them pass. "You always find _something_ good to say. About everyone."

He had felt nervous before, noticing Carlisle's attention to detail. But there was nothing wrong with that.

 _Drini started barking when he arrived. I've never heard her bark like that._

 _Maybe Carlisle was right. Maybe she just doesn't like strangers._

But that did not make sense, he realized. The hall had been inundated with strangers all summer. Bertie and Edith and their family, Rosamund, Lord Gillingham, Henry from Shackleton…

Rubbing her eyes, Sybil leaned back against the rock wall of the kitchen. It was still warm from the heat of the day, though the sun had long since set. "Carlisle is…strong," she said finally.

"High praise indeed." Thomas rolled his eyes.

"I mean, he knows what he wants, and woe to the man who keeps him from it."

"The king will hardly tell him he can't have Lady Mary. And what will Henry do? Challenge him to a fight? I think Carlisle would beat him." _Easily._ "Determination and persistence can be good – or bad," Thomas continued. "Which is it?"

Sybil read people better than anyone Thomas knew. Except for her mother.

"I don't know," his sister muttered. She covered her face with her hands, her voice muffled. "I don't _know_ , and I wish I did!"

Thomas was alarmed by Sybil's frustration. "Is there anything I can do?" He asked. "I could ask his servants about him. Find out more."

"No," she looked up at him. "You have enough to do. Besides, you will be closer to him than almost anyone else while he's here. The truth will present itself in time. It always does. Maybe he is a good man, and I just misjudge him. In the meantime," she patted Thomas's arm, "Look after yourself."

"I will. Go to bed," he ordered. "Or I'll write Mother and tell her you aren't looking after _your_ self."

"I'm going, devious brother," she huffed, blowing several hairs out of her face. He knew from her smile she wasn't really angry. "The last thing I want is for our parents to worry about us."

* * *

In the span of a cycle of the moon, Thomas saw and heard little to worry him. Carlisle's guards and servants were friendly. Robert received no further news of brigands, seen or unseen, and the weather was milder than usual. Which put everyone in a better mood.

Only Henry of Shackleton seemed on edge. And Drini had to be shut in the kennel more often than not.

Carlisle was always gracious with the family, and polite to Thomas. He demanded less than the young man had expected.

Still, Thomas was busier than ever. No matter his chores and other duties, if the king called for him, he had no choice but to go.

He did, however, at times choose his words carefully.

"Lady Mary trusts you," Carlisle told him one morning several days after he had arrived. "She trusts you with her son. If there is anything I can do to win her trust, I want you to tell me."

"T-there's not much to tell, milord," Thomas stuttered. Sometimes when the king looked at him it felt like he could read his mind.

 _Is he asking me to spy on her?_

"I came to court when Master George was only an infant," he went on, knowing he could not be silent. "I…looked after him. Made him laugh, things like that. He's a fine boy. His mother was pleased with me. That's all."

"As she should be. Not all servants would be so obliging, even with the heir to the kingdom. Not all _my_ father's servants treated me well," Carlisle stood still while Thomas put his cloak around his shoulders, then as he laced up his sandals. "So what you are saying is, I should be kind to the child, and that will win both him and his mother?"

"Kindness is usually a wise course to take." Thomas gathered the king's dirty clothes. He decided not to mention the small gifts Henry of Shackleton had brought Master George.

 _He doesn't need more toys._

Four days after that, Lady Mary summoned Thomas to her rooms. Madge and another girl were in there, sewing, but Sybil was not with them. Carlisle stood, his brow furrowed.

"Did you tell Richard to give George gifts?" Lady Mary demanded, her brown eyes glaring at Thomas. "First Henry brought him a pony, never mind he already _has_ one. Now this."

She gestured to a box sitting on a cushion. Thomas opened it. Inside was a beautifully carved knife.

"I said nothing." He was very aware of Carlisle's eyes on him. "His Lordship does not need any advice from me."

"I certainly do not. I meant it as a kindness, Lady Mary," Carlisle said, frowning. "Nothing more. I am a guest in your father's house, and it seemed only right that I should have a gift for your father's heir."

She blinked several times. Thomas could almost hear the thoughts spinning in her head.

He only hoped she would not interrogate him further.

"Very well," she said. "But before you begin showering George with more gifts he doesn't need, I would like to be told first." She gave the open box a rather disdainful look. "He is much too young to receive a knife. I want him to be a child for as long as he can."

"I apologize for offending you," Carlisle bowed slightly, his voice softer. "It is tradition in my kingdom for boys his age to receive such a gift. He will have to learn the art of war someday."

"But not today." Lady Mary closed the box. "Thomas, take this to the armory. I will make sure it is presented to Master George at an appropriate time." She turned to Carlisle. "I do appreciate your generosity," she said. "Truly. But I must do what is best for my son."

"I understand." He replied, putting his hands behind his back. "I would be honored if you would ride with me this morning. Your father says you are a better rider than anyone else in Grantham."

 _That was well done,_ Thomas thought. Open flattery did not often work with Lady Mary, but she hardly ever resisted an offer to ride her grey mare.

Pink spots appeared on her cheeks, and she smiled. "Papa is too generous…but I do love it," she admitted. "Thomas, tell Edward to bring Echo from the stables."

If Carlisle gave any other gifts to Master George after that, Thomas was unaware of it. He was glad Lady Mary did not question him.

The King of Carlisle often questioned him. At times he would ask Thomas the most mundane things – when the hall had been built, how old the village of Downton was, how long the temple had been there.

"You must think it strange," he smiled wryly at Thomas's expression one evening. He took a sip of wine. "All these questions. But I like to know as much as I can about a place. Grantham does not have great cities like some kingdoms do, or ancient histories, but you have your own traditions. The king told me the festivities at Midsummer are a sight to behold."

"They are lively enough for us, milord," Thomas said. He made sure the wineskin was empty. "Nothing fancy."

He doubted Carlisle was the sort to attend pious ceremonies, or feast along the river, or dance in a crowd of people like Robert.

"You might like the competition," he went on. "Men and boys come from far away to test themselves."

"Or from close by," Carlisle leaned on his elbow. "I'm told you have done quite well there. I am sorry I did not come earlier in the summer. I would have liked to see it for myself." He finished his wine, handing Thomas his empty cup. "That will be all. Good night."

"Good night, milord."

* * *

Wearily, Thomas trudged down the stairs. He was glad Carlisle had gone to sleep at a reasonable time.

 _I can't remember the last night I went to sleep before the second watch._

He gathered the king of Carlisle's freshly cleaned tunics and took them back upstairs, so he would not have to do it in the morning. Then he had to check the wine cellar for the next day's choice (Robert had told him what it was after the evening meal), and go to the stables and inform the grooms that Carlisle wished to hunt with the king of Hexham on the morrow. Finally he went to the armory and made sure Carlisle's bowstring was sufficient, and that his quiver was filled with arrows.

By the time he made his way back to the courtyard, his legs felt like they were filled with rocks.

A man struggled, trying to pull Drini back towards the stairs. Thomas recognized him as one of Robert's kennel men.

"What is _wrong_ with you," he said, exasperated, as the dog tried to run past him toward the gate. "Not _that_ way, his Lordship wanted you upstairs."

Drini saw Thomas, and barked.

"Go with him," he reached out and petted her. She licked his hand, then whined, trying to turn around. "No, no, the king wants you with the family." He stuck out his knee to block her way. "Don't you want to go sleep next to Master George and Miss Marigold? They miss playing with you."

"I don't know what's gotten into her," the man pulled on his beard. It looked thin, like he'd been pulling out hair for a while. "Ever since the half-moon she's been trying to run into the woods every night. She always behaved before. There's too many men here, that's what."

"That's for certain. Good luck," Thomas told him. He watched the man wrestle Drini onto the stairs, then he went on across the courtyard. It was dotted with a few fires. The torches on the high walls illumined the helmets of the guards standing watch.

Edward caught him in the shadows near the shelter where they slept.

"Why didn't you tell me about the hunt tomorrow?" He whispered, reaching out and rubbing the back of Thomas's neck. "I could have gone to the armory. You need to sleep…I promised your father I'd look after you. I'm not keeping my promise very well."

"It's not your fault. I didn't know about the hunt until Carlisle told me a little while ago," Thomas yawned. "Why didn't _you_ go to sleep already?"

Smiling, Edward leaned forward and kissed him softly. "I was waiting for you, you silly man-"

On the other side of the shelter, nearer to the main gate, they suddenly heard loud voices. They glanced at each other and rushed to see what the commotion was.

Master Henry was arguing, talking to Roland and several other guards. Most were Robert's, but a few were Carlisle's.

Master Henry's thin face was pale in the torchlight.

"-do you _mean_ you haven't seen him since sundown!? Why wasn't I told before now? I am responsible for the lad!"

Edward tapped a Carlisle guard on the shoulder.

"What's going on?"

The man shrugged. "A lad's gone missing. One o' Lord Grantham's."

"Who?" Thomas asked. Somehow he knew the answer before it was given.

"Boy named Ethan-"

"Confound it, where IS he?" Master Henry looked in their direction. "Cook sent him to cut herbs earlier. He should have waited until morning, never mind that fat woman raging at him," he snapped. "If he isn't back by the third watch, I will have to send men out to find him. What! If he's fallen asleep in the woods, so help me, I will make sure he sleeps standing from now on…"

Despite his fatigue, Thomas heard real worry behind the master's blustering. Master Henry did care for all the men and women in the king's household.

He stifled another yawn. "Should I go to bed?" he asked. "The King of Carlisle has dismissed me for the night."

"Go," Master Henry waved him away. "It's best that you get some rest now. If Ethan doesn't appear soon, I'll need you to help look for him."

 _Wonderful._

Thomas was irritated, and not a little worried himself.

 _He's gone in the woods a hundred times. He never could have gotten lost._

"If it was near dark, he might have fallen," Edward whispered as they went back to their shelter. "When we were building the new stables south of the hall, the ground was rocky there. Master Henry said we were fortunate no one sprained an ankle."

They both fell onto their straw pallets and were asleep instantly.

It felt as though Thomas had been asleep for only a moment when he felt someone shake him.

"Come on," Silas said, holding a torch. "The master's asking for you." He turned and woke Edward, too.

"Some good I'm going to be," Thomas mumbled, stumbling behind the guard back into the courtyard. Edward's foot hit the back of his leg, and they both nearly tumbled onto the ground. He yawned, feeling like his head was going to split in two. "I c-can hardly keep my eyes open."

The woods were almost black beneath the canopy of trees. Little orange flickers of light, torches carried by searchers, blazed everywhere like fireflies.

It felt dreamlike to Thomas. He kept pinching the palm of his hand to keep himself awake.

"Stop!" Edward cried, grabbing his arm. He woke up completely.

"What?" he asked grumpily.

His mate swung his torch in front of them. "See the rocks?"

They were scattered here and there, some mostly hidden beneath moss or behind old stumps of trees. A chill went down Thomas's back.

"Good thing you stopped me. I might have broken my neck." He took the torch. Other than the rocks, there was nothing unusual he could see.

"ETHAN!" Bellowed Edward, his hands around his mouth.

"You'll wake the dead, shouting like that!" A nearby guard called. Several others laughed.

Thomas scrambled over a line of rocks as high as his shins. He seemed to be in some sort of clearing. Moonlight spilled over onto the ground, making strange shadows on the broken rocks. Other men's torches gleamed on the far side of the clearing. He heard Silas yell Ethan's name.

He saw the edge of a hawthorn bush, and winced as he stumbled into it. The ground was uneven beneath him.

The light from his torch illumined his feet, and his heart stopped.

He had stumbled over someone's legs.

Thomas felt to his knees, holding up his torch.

Ethan was sprawled on his back. One leg was bent beneath him. Other than that, he looked as though he could have been sleeping.

 _Please be breathing, please be breathing, please be breathing…_

His hand was cold.

" _Edward!_ " Thomas screamed, panic fogging his mind. His belly heaved, and he thought he might be sick. " _Somebody – Edward – over here, NOW!"_

Silas and Roland crashed through the trees, racing towards him. A moment later, Edward knelt beside him.

"Is he-"

Thomas put his ear against Ethan's chest.

Nothing.

"He's dead."

Irrationally, he shook him, as if that would wake the lad. It did not.

Roland and Silas stood over them, their torches throwing more light onto Ethan's face. It was only then that Thomas saw that his eyes were open.

"He's _dead_."


	76. Farewell

**A/N: Another long one. As a precaution, I'm rating this M for descriptions of violence at the beginning. Also TW for slightly gory details. This chapter has been a work-in-progress for the last three weeks…before the horrible events in real life.**

 **I don't mean to imply that Ethan means more to anyone in the story than has previously been said. But his death is a shock to a lot of people. I hope that makes sense.**

* * *

Searching in the woods for Ethan had felt dream-like to Thomas.

Helping carry his body back to the hall was a nightmare.

Edward held his legs, and one of Robert's guards and Thomas had his arms.

He put out his hand to hold up Ethan's head. He did not like it hanging down, as if Ethan was looking back at the place where he had fallen.

The dead lad's sandy-colored hair felt stiff and matted. In spots it was still damp.

When they had turned him over in the clearing, looking for any sign of how he died (for as Roland had said, a broken leg was painful, but it would not have killed him outright), they had found the back part of his head caved in, soaked in blood.

Thomas's belly heaved again thinking about it.

 _I hope he died quickly._

It was awful to think about. Maybe Ethan hadn't been paying attention (Thomas could see that), or maybe he had just been unlucky. The best that they could guess was that he had slipped and fallen, breaking his leg. Then he must have tried to move or call for help but had fallen again, and that time cracked the back of his head open on a jagged stone.

As though it was a sparrow's egg.

 _But it doesn't make sense_ , Thomas thought. _He was not as agile as Edward or me, but he was not clumsy. Why did he fall?_

His own head throbbed. He was sure fatigue was robbing him of his reason.

Torches gleamed from the top of the wall surrounding the king's hall. From inside, Thomas heard the mournful howl of a dog. He shivered.

 _Drini._

Master Henry met them before they reached the gate.

"Is it true?" He asked quietly. His face looked gaunt in the light of the torch he carried. "I sent for Master Richard, the healer-"

"There's no skill he has that can bring the poor lad back." Roland sighed. He put a hand on Edward's shoulder, and the three carrying Ethan stopped. Master Henry touched the dead boy's cheek.

"What happened?" He asked in a hoarse voice, after a long silence.

"Fell, most likely," Silas answered. "Thomas found him in that rocky clearing, not far from the new stables."

"Did you?" The master looked at Thomas. He nodded, feeling like if he opened his mouth he would either vomit. Or cry.

Master Henry took the other guard's place, carrying Ethan with Edward and Thomas through the gates. Guards stood to either side, talking in low voices. They hushed as the dead was carried past.

Thomas knew the word of Ethan's death would spread like wildfire.

 _I should ask Roland to tell Sybil. He'll tell Madge for sure._

He wanted to stay with Ethan for as long as possible. Though Master Henry was in charge of the household, Thomas felt responsible for the younger lad.

 _I should have helped him more._

The king was awake and waiting in the hall. He was crouched down, trying to comfort Drini, who was whimpering and crying on the floor.

She sat up and howled when the three servants carried Ethan in.

"Oh no…" Robert said, his face falling when he saw them. "Here, take him in here." He hurried to a door that led into a little room above the wine cellar. Opening it himself, he stood aside when Thomas and Master Henry backed through the doorway.

They laid Ethan on a table that usually held wineskins. His feet stuck out from one end.

No sooner had they set him down when Roland came in, leading Master Richard. Roland said something to Silas, who stood outside. Silas petted Drini and murmured for her to lay down. Then the captain of the guard shut the door.

"I came as fast as I could," the healer told the king. His shoulders slumped as he peered at the table. "But I was told it was too late. I am sorry."

"The lads think he fell. His right leg's broken, and his head's bloody," Master Henry said.

Richard looked Ethan over, touching his crooked leg, lifting his head. When he did so, more blood seeped out. "Yes. It appears so. These things do happen, unfortunately." He asked for more light, and Edward brought more torches. He had Thomas stand by him with a basin of water and a basket of cloth scraps.

In the absence of any female relatives, Thomas knew, the healer would likely prepare the body for burial himself. At first it appeared that was what Richard was doing. Then he frowned, lifting one of Ethan's hands and examining his fingers.

"Thomas." The healer's familiar lilt made Thomas jump. He was nodding off to sleep, standing up.

"Sorry…what do you need?" He yawned. In the corner, the king and Master Henry spoke in whispers. Edward's eyes followed Thomas.

"A torch, please. Closer."

Thomas brought it closer to where Richard stood. Ethan had been stripped to the waist. The healer took the torch and held it close to Ethan's hip.

"Do you see?" He asked, his voice little more than a murmur.

A chill went down Thomas's spine. There were several fist-sized bruises on Ethan's chest and side. They were dark, and looked black beneath the harsh light of the torch.

 _Fresh._

There were more dark bruises on either side of his neck. Thin ones.

 _Like fingers._

Richard pressed lightly on Ethan's chest. Whatever he was searching for, he found, because he nodded to himself. Then he went to the other end of the table and gently lifted Ethan's head. It looked to Thomas like he was weighing it in his hands, but that made little sense.

 _Nothing makes sense._

Setting Ethan's head down, Richard then washed his hands in the basin. "Milord?"

"Yes?" Robert asked. There were shadows beneath his eyes.

The healer glanced at Master Henry, Edward, Roland, and finally at Thomas. "Do you trust everyone in this room?"

"Of course I do. Why?"

Richard's blue eyes were intense in the flickering light. "Because I believe this poor lad did not die because of a fall. I think someone killed him."

It felt like someone punched Thomas in the belly with the blunt end of a spear. He stiffened and gasped, and had to lean on the table for support.

Part of his horror was that he had _felt_ something to be wrong.

 _He_ _wouldn't_ _have fallen by himself._

 _Drini knew…she was trying to get outside._

Edward's eyes widened in shock.

"W-what?" Master Henry stuttered. "What makes you say that?"

"Look." Richard held the torch in one hand, and pointed with his other hand. "Here, on his neck and chest, there are scratches and bruises. There's too many to be caused by a simple fall. I am certain that several of his ribs are broken. These bruises here," he gestured to Ethan's neck, "you can see for yourself, milord."

Robert leaned closer. "They look like someone's hands," he muttered, horrified.

"But…but…it is _possible?_ " Master Henry asked. His voice cracked on the last word. "For someone to kill a lad like Ethan? He's not a child-"

"It's very possible," Roland said in a low voice. "Ethan was not the biggest lad here. Another man, if he beat him first, could very well have got his hands around his neck."

"Yes," Richard agreed. "But not without a fight. Milord, look at his hands." He held the right one up gently. "Four of the fingers on this hand are broken, and his left thumb's dislocated."

He turned a little, meeting Thomas's eyes. The young man swallowed, tasting bile.

 _He's seen a lad beaten to within an inch of his life before._

 _Me._

"What about his head?" The words came out slowly from Robert, as though he spoke underwater. "Master Henry said his head was bloody."

"It is. His head was clearly dashed against a rock. I will be honest - it _may_ be that that he died from an unfortunate fall, and that I am wrong. But I can only guess by what I've seen."

The healer's tone of voice indicated that he was certain.

"If you're right…why would someone want to _kill_ Ethan?" Edward asked hoarsely. "Some of the servants gave him a hard time, but no one was cruel!"

"Too true." Roland rubbed his face. "I was hard on him at times, but I never wished him ill."

"I know you didn't. I would have known if someone threatened him." Running a hand through his hair, Master Henry shook his head. "At least I hope so."

The room was quiet.

Thomas could not look away from Ethan. He knew everyone was thinking the same thing.

 _Why?_

* * *

Mary's eyes were wide with shock. Her long brown hair was not yet combed, hanging slightly in her face. She put a hand to her mouth.

"And Master Richard is sure?" She murmured.

"Quite sure," Robert glanced back at Thomas. The early morning light brought out the grey strands on the king's head. "He went out with Roland to the place. They only just got back. There were signs of a struggle – the point of a rock was bloody, bloodstains in the grass and on one of the trees, and someone had been dragged on the ground. Ethan most likely."

Mary reached for Sybil's hand.

"How terrible!" The young woman cried, taking it. Her face was white. "Did anyone see anything, milord? Hear anything?"

"That is what we need to find out," the king answered. He put a hand on Mary's shoulder. "I told your mother, and Rosamund. Now I need to go see Edith and Bertie. And after them, Henry of Shackleton and Carlisle-"

"Why all of them?" Mary's voice was sharp. "Edith certainly doesn't need to know. It was one of _our_ servants who was murdered. I should think the less people know, the better! Everyone already knows he's dead."

In that mysterious way, the news had spread around the hall before dawn, among the servants and their masters alike.

"Mary, I can hardly keep this from your sister and brother-in-law. And how could I tell them, and not tell the other guests? What if one of their servants saw something?" Robert snapped. He gazed out the window.

"What if one of their servants _did_ it?" Mary muttered.

Robert sucked in his breath. "Let's not pin the blame on others before we know what happened."

It was clear the king was shaken. So was his daughter.

"Sybil," Mary turned to her servant, still clutching her hand, "Go and bring Master George to me. I know it's early…if he's still asleep, have Thomas carry him here."

There were two guards outside George's room. In between them was Drini. She stood up when she saw Sybil.

"She's been here since early this morning," one guard said to Thomas, opening the door. "Came up here and laid down, and nothing we could do would move her."

The other guard nodded. "His Lordship said she could stay."

"That's wise," Sybil murmured. "She loves Master George."

The little boy was awake, though only just. He rubbed his eyes and sank into Thomas's arms. Drini followed behind them as they went back to Lady Mary's rooms.

"You're not all right, are you?" Sybil whispered, grabbing Thomas's arm and steadying him when he stumbled.

"No," he croaked. "But I can't talk about it now."

Mary got up the moment they returned and took George. She was not the most affectionate of mothers, Thomas knew, but the way she clung to her son and kissed him was touching.

 _She's scared._

"You are exhausted," she said over George's shoulder, his little arms around her neck. It took Thomas a moment to realize she was talking to him. "You need to go to bed. Surely someone else can wait on Carlisle this morning."

"Master Henry will. Thomas, go to bed and try to rest. I mean it," the king ordered. "Sybil, go with your brother. Oh," he said before they opened the doors, "You both already know this, but I must insist you tell no one what was said here. To anyone."

"Yes, milord," they answered, before leaving.

On the way down the stairs, Sybil took Thomas's arm and wrapped it around her neck. "I'm surprised you're still standing up."

"Me too," he mumbled. His words sounded slurred to him. Edward met them at the bottom of the stairs. He took Thomas's other arm, and together he and Sybil practically carried Thomas across the courtyard. Normally, the place was bustling with the sounds of the morning, but it was eerily quiet. Except for the whispered conversations going on.

Thomas fell into a dreamless sleep. By the time he woke, the day was blazing and the sun was past midday.

He hurried to see if Carlisle needed him.

"Not until this evening," the man told him. His attention was fixed on the scroll he was writing. He looked up. "Such dreadful news the king of Grantham told me. A murder! Whatever can be done to find who did it, I will help."

Thomas nodded. There was no mistaking the intensity on Carlisle's face.

"This has upset Lady Mary very much." The foreign king moved aside the scroll, along with several other scraps of papyrus. His frowned, his eyes angry. "There seems to be a lack of discipline in the court…a lad disappears and is found dead within shouting distance of the hall. That would never happen in _my_ kingdom."

"It has never happened here before," Thomas hastened to say. He felt the need to defend the king and Master Henry.

 _As if anyone_ _wanted_ _it to happen!_

Carlisle leaned back against the wall. "I am glad to see you well," he continued after a pause. His voice was gentler. "This morning, when Master Henry told me one of the servants was dead, at first I feared it was you."

Thomas didn't know what to say to that.

 _I had no idea I meant anything to him._

"T-thank you, milord," he replied. He hoped he did not look surprised, though of course he was.

Carlisle took a drink from his cup. "You are a rare servant, loyal and efficient. Lady Mary and the king trust you. But you also know your own mind. It's a terrible thing, that boy being killed, but to lose you would be a tragedy."

He dismissed Thomas, giving him instructions for the evening. The young man left and went back to the courtyard. His mind swarmed with Ethan, his own duties, and the generosity Carlisle had shown him.

He did not like to admit it, but he did not trust the man.

Still.

 _Why is he complimenting me like this?_

 _Surely he could find another servant who is as attentive as I am. He's got an ill manservant in Crowborough…surely he'll send for him when he's better._

Then it struck him.

 _If Lady Mary accepts Carlisle, he will want ME to go, too_.

 _He thinks I know more than I do. About the king, about the court._

He had often tried in the past to act as if he knew everything, even when he didn't. Now he regretted his pride.

 _Leaving here…I could stay with Master George. Sybil would go as well. And Edward, as a guard._

His heart and head ached.

 _What about Papa and Mother?_

He was pulled from his musings about his unknown future by his sister and Edward, who met him outside the kitchen. They went out a side gate within view of a few Grantham guards and sat beneath the trees. The air was stifling, hot.

"Let's stay here," Edward said when they were huddled in the shade. He glanced back at a guard and waved. "No one's to go out of sight of the hall, certainly not alone. Master Henry and Roland ordered it." He pressed his lips together. "The news of Ethan's death is everywhere, but fortunately _not_ his murder," he said quietly. "I don't know how long that will last. The more people the king tells, the more likely it will get out."

"He doesn't want to cause a panic," Thomas touched Edward's knee. "But he needs to know who did it."

"As do we all. Now," Sybil said, her face more serious than either of them had ever seen, "Tell me _everything_ about last night."

Edward did most of the talking. About the search, how no one saw anything amiss. Thomas's voice broke when he told his sister about finding Ethan's body. She listened without a word.

"The question is," she said when they were done, "Who would do such a thing? And why?" Her voice was distant, her eyes far away.

"Who knows?" Edward dug his toe into the dirt. "If it had been one of the guards who'd been killed, we could assume it was the result of a wager gone wrong, or a fight over a girl. But _Ethan?_ "

Thomas had covered his face with his hands, partly to give himself relief from the blistering sun pebbling its way through the leaves, and to help himself think.

"He was innocent," he muttered. "I mean…he wasn't _perfect_ , but he was honest."

It felt odd to talk about Ethan as though he was not there. Thomas knew he was gone.

 _One day here, the next…_

He went on, trying to shake off the weight that had settled in his chest. "The worst thing he'd ever done was probably eaten too much at the Harvest Festival. I would be surprised to know if he had ever _kissed_ a girl, let alone bedded one."

"Exactly." Edward leaned forward. "It makes no sense – I suppose he could have made a wager with someone and not paid them, but I saw him at Midsummer. He lost one, but paid it back."

"He was clever enough to bet on you being champion," Thomas said, trying to smile. It faded as he remembered something. "He knew…Edward, he knew about _us_." Glancing in the guards' direction, he lowered his voice. "That day in our sleeping quarters. He saw us together."

"But he's not the only one who knows," Sybil reminded them. "I do. Madge does – and not because I told her," she raised her eyebrows when they looked at her. "Silas, Roland, and Sarah too. And more, including the king. The two of you have not been as careful as you thought. I don't think it was that…it isn't as though Ethan knew any deep, dark secrets that no one _else_ knew," she mused.

"He would never have kept them if he did. Not intentionally," Edward agreed, his eyebrows together. "Do you think he was killed because of us?" he asked Thomas.

"No." Thomas said after a long time. "It would make no sense…if someone didn't like… _us_ , wouldn't they simply go after you or me? Not poor Ethan."

Still, he made a vow to himself to be more discrete around Edward. Just in case.

Edward reached into the little bag on his belt. "Roland gave this to me. Drini found it when she went with him and Master Henry to the clearing. The king already showed it to the Queen of Painswick, Carlisle, Henry of Shackleton, and the Hexhams. It's not something worn by any of their servants – or ours."

He handed the ripped cloth to Sybil. It was dark green, about the size of Edward's palm.

Frowning, Sybil rubbed her fingers over it. "Strange. It's too thick to be from a tunic. It's from a cloak." She frowned. "Who would wear a cloak now, when it's hot?" She held it to her face, like she was smelling it. A line appeared between her eyes.

"What did you do that for?" Thomas asked. "It smells like dirt and old leaves, I expect."

"It does." The look on her face was the same as the day when Carlisle had arrived.

Frustrated.

The three of them were quiet. A dove fluttered from one branch to another, cooing to its mate.

Thomas kept thinking about the way Ethan had been found with his eyes open.

 _Whoever killed him, he saw them._

"I should go," Sybil stood up, and the lads did the same. "I need to see if Lady Mary wants to change before the evening meal."

"I doubt it. She won't care about that. Not today," said Thomas.

"You're probably right. Master George has been with her all day. She's hardly let him out of her arms, much less her sight." Sybil put her hand on Thomas's back. His muscles were tense. He sighed and laid his head on her shoulder.

"It is not your fault," she whispered.

He knew it was not. Yet he could not stop thinking about how he had treated Ethan. "I should have been kinder to him." His voice broke as he felt all the senselessness of the day. "He didn't deserve to die, much less like that."

 _Why?_

Edward put his long arms around both of them.

"It…it's just…he was here, and then he was gone," Thomas's voice wavered again. "Like…"

"Daisy," Sybil finished shakily, tears shining on her cheeks.

 _I know._

The three of them stood together, just holding each other. Edward sniffed once and wiped his eyes.

"The king's written to Ethan's mother," he said thickly. "She lives in the western part of the kingdom, near Flintshire."

"Poor woman," sighed Sybil. "I hope someone is with her when she gets the letter."

"Me too." That made Thomas think of someone else. "What about _our_ mother? And Papa? Master Richard won't say anything about Ethan being murdered to anyone, but what if they hear the news of his death from him, or from someone in the village?"

"That won't do. Not at all." Sybil pulled her hair back from her face. "After I see to Lady Mary, I'll write to them."

Thomas held a silent conversation with his sister. _And say what?_

"I do not dare tell them the truth," she murmured, understanding him. _As much as I would like to._ "Not in a scroll, anyway. We don't want them to worry."

Ethan was buried that evening south of the hall. His grave overlooked the river. As the sun went down, the light turned the colors of the western sky pink and orange. It was a beautiful sight.

Robert and Cora were there, while each of their guests sent a servant to represent them. The rest of the mourners were those who had known Ethan at the palace - Master Henry, and a number of servants and guards, who came to say farewell.

Thomas wondered if Isobel knew the truth of the lad's death. If she did, she did not show it. She chanted the prayers like always, giving Ethan a respectful end.

Thomas found his mind drifting, his eyes lingering on some of the foreign servants he did not know. What Lady Mary had said nagged him.

 _What if it WAS one of them?_

 _What if it was one of us?_

* * *

The wind gusted through the trees along the stream. It was a hot blast of air, nothing cool. Leaves on the tree above the hut drooped. Several were already changing from green into yellow. A few fluttered to the ground, and into the goat pen.

Elsie sighed as she sat in the doorway. She handed the scroll to Charles and scratched Nosi's ears.

"Sybil is worried about Thomas," she said. "She says he knew the lad better than most of the others. He took it hard."

"Hmm," Charles murmured under his breath as he read, his eyebrows together. "He never spoke of-" he squinted at the scroll- "-Ethan to me, but I can believe it. He takes his duties seriously, including knowing who all the servants are." He rolled up the scroll and sat down beside his wife and dog.

"I can hear you worrying," Elsie said in a dry voice. She rubbed his arm and took his hand in hers. "I would tell you not to, but I cannot seem to stop myself, either."

 _That poor lad._

She remembered the few prayers Ethan had made to her. For courage to speak to one girl; asking for Eala's help to woo another. He had not been a very serious boy. Still, she had listened to his petitions with as much patience as she did everyone who prayed to her.

Now he was dead. Gone to Elysium, most likely, rather than Hades' fiery halls.

Another young voice silenced.

 _Life cannot be taken for granted among the mortals. It is so short. It is not a given that someone young will be here from one day to the next._

The image of Daisy appeared in her memory.

 _It is not a given that someone_ _ **old**_ _will live tomorrow, either._

Charles's strong fingers were laced through hers. Her heart thumped painfully.

"Whatever happened, I am sure our children are well looked after. Master Henry is a good man. Diligent," he said after a long silence. He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself, as well as her. "But you're right. I can't stop myself from fretting about them." He took a short breath. "Not after Daisy…"

He squeezed Elsie's hand hard.

"I know," she whispered, leaning against him.

The loss of their daughter still lingered. As it always would.

Nosi got up and jumped on Charles's lap. The couple laughed as their puppy wedged herself in between them.

"Wee scamp," Elsie cuddled her, "You never like it when we show affection to each other!"

"She likes it fine." Charles rubbed Nosi's dark, furry head. " _She_ just wants affection, too." He gathered her in his arms and stood up. "Come with me to the meadow," he told the dog. "You need more practice watching the flock."

"Stay near the ash tree, as much as you can." Elsie went to the well and filled an empty water skin. "And drink often. It's hot."

"Too hot," he gently let Nosi down and took the skin. "We need rain. A good long soaking one." He raised his eyebrows. "And _you_ need to sleep."

Elsie sighed, and rubbed her eyes. There were shadows beneath them. "I'll try. I told James I would take the watch after moonrise."

"Even more of a reason for you to rest now." Charles tilted her head up, his finger under her chin. "You hide it well, but I know you haven't had a decent sleep since the King of Carlisle's procession passed by."

It was true. She had been restless, unable to sleep for long periods of time. She knew something was wrong, and had told Charles so.

But what, she did not know.

It made her uneasy.

 _Danger, unseen._

She wondered about the ruler of Carlisle himself, and all those who traveled with him. But there had been no trouble; indeed, no bad word had been said about any of the many guests at the king's hall.

Ethan's death was the first sign that anything was amiss. If it was a sign.

 _It was merely an accident. These things happen._

 _You can't be sure it_ _was_ _an accident._

 _You can't be sure it wasn't._

Elsie wanted to speak to Sybil, but she knew there was no way to speak with her. Her daughter's days (and many nights) were filled with her work. The soonest they would see each other was the Harvest Festival.

Writing of her unease in a scroll was impossible.

 _What would I say?_

 _Nothing has happened here._

 _Other than the dogs barking at the most random times._

Since the day the procession passed, Freya and her pups sometimes broke into sporadic barking. Sometimes it was during the day. More often it was at night.

More than once, Charles, Elsie, Alfred, or James had hurried to where Vyr or Freya or Nosi (and sometimes Ve) were agitated – near the stream; by the road; on the northern edge of the meadow close to the rock wall that bordered Jacob's land.

They never found anything.

 _Another reason to want rain. If there was rain, and someone was nearby, they would leave footprints._

Elsie lifted herself up on her toes and pressed her lips against Charles's. "I will try to sleep. I promise. But I am going to write back to Sybil and our lads, and will send the letter today."

"You need sleep," he persisted, his hands resting on her hips. "If you don't rest before sundown, I will take the watch."

"You will not," she argued, tugging on his tunic. "I want _you_ to have a proper night's sleep…I know how you hate this heat, and it stays in the house long after dark. You should sleep in the meadow. It'd be cooler."

"No. I much prefer to not-sleep next to my wife," he rumbled. "I don't care how warm it is in our home." He smiled at the naughty gleam in her eyes.

"It is awfully warm in there. Especially at night." She slid her hands up his arms to rest on his chest. "My man likes to hold me close, breath down my neck, and tangle my hair-"

"My woman likes to sooth my aching back, kiss me over my heart – and everywhere else, and pin my arms down so she can have her way with me."

"And you let her?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"I do," he said with all solemnity. "She is a goddess. I dare not risk her wrath by refusing her…not that I ever _want_ to. I cannot resist her, you see."

"Fortunately," she whispered. "She cannot resist you, either."

She opened her mouth when he kissed her, wanting to taste him. In very little time they were both _very_ warm.

"I must go," he gasped, taking a step back. "Alfred…the flock…and you need to sleep."

"After I write Sybil." She took a ragged breath, running her finger over her lip. _He left a mark._

 _Again._

"Tell her to comfort Thomas as well as she can," he said, having to concentrate on his words. "Send all three of them my love, and tell them to watch out for each other."

He hurried up the hill, whistling for Nosi, before he succumbed to temptation.

Again.

As much as she wanted him, part of her was glad he left.

 _It is not the right time._

There was some talk in the village about Ethan, when Elsie went to send her letter to the hall. The boy who took her coin said he'd heard the unlucky servant had hit his head and drowned in the river. She did not correct him.

Despite her fatigue, she stopped to talk to the wheelwright. "I thought I might find your pretty wife and daughter here," she said to Joseph as he sanded wooden staves.

"They were here earlier. I'm sorry you missed them. If they aren't at home, try the forge." He rubbed sweat beading on his forehead. "John's apprentices like seeing the baby. Phyllis takes her there every other day or so."

Phyllis and Lily were not at home. Elsie stood staring at their simple hut for a long time, biting her lip.

In truth, there was more than one reason she was reluctant to go to the forge.

The heat, the fire, the hammers ringing…she would have to endure such things forever, and she was in no hurry to give herself a reminder. Even to visit her friends.

 _That is not the only reason you do not want to go._

She felt a reluctance to see Lily with her mother.

Shame added to her guilt.

"You would only be torturing yourself," she whispered under her breath. "Seeing them together. They can't help it…it's been a long time since you have seen them. Or Anna, for that matter…"

It was tempting, despite her dislike of the forge. But her jumbled feelings were stronger than her wanting to visit friends – she hesitated, walking a few steps in that direction, before turning away.

Trudging home, tears filled Elsie's eyes. The uncertainty over the unknown threat and the worry about Sybil and the lads was only part of what weighed on her, and what kept her awake.

Another weight had been growing on her heart. Neglecting her friends was merely a symptom of it.

Two days before, she had woken in the morning to find a reddish-brown stain against her thigh. Since taking mortal form, such a sight had come without fail once every moon.

 _I should be used to it by now._

She had cried outside the house alone. Part of her wanted to tell Charles of her hurt, but she had no wish to add to his burdens.

Every time her cycle came, it was harder to bear. Especially with her mortal friends having what _She_ wanted.

It was something she rarely admitted to herself. Never to Charles.

 _Phyllis and Joseph with darling Lily, Emma's nieces and nephew, and on and on…_

 _YOU_ _give the gift of children!_

 _Of course I do. How could I not?_

Anna, despite being ill, possessed a glow that was unique to women.

 _You wanted her and John to be happy, too._

 _They are, bless them._

Her heart ached.

It was not easy giving others gifts, and denying them to herself.

 _This is your fate. You know this. To live without love, to give love without having it in return._

 _To give pleasure to my husband without being wholly fulfilled._

The woman in her always was. The goddess held herself back when she and Charles were intimate. She was content with that; lately it was her gift of fertility that she struggled to contain.

 _You could give in._

 _Once._

The heat of the day seeped into her body, making her more relaxed than ever. And more tired.

Like her control was slipping away.

" _No_ ," she huffed, balling her fists. A spasm flitted across her middle and she winced, pressing her hand to her abdomen. "You cannot. You _dare_ not. Think of what Beryl would say, if she was here."

She could almost hear her oldest friend's piercing voice in her ear. _"Are you DAFT?"_

It made her smile.

She missed Beryl dearly. She missed her company, and her counsel. As much as the Harvest Goddess often did as she pleased, she also was very pragmatic.

"She would remind you how dangerous it would be," Elsie said to herself as she passed a wheat field, rippling gold under a blazing white sky. "She would say my love for Charles, for our family, and our friends, would not be worth the risk. Yes, she _did_ say 'what's life without a little risk', but that was about returning Charles's love. Becoming his wife."

 _Bearing our half-mortal child would be too much to risk._

 _What would Father say? What would He do?_

 _You know what He would do. Even to a child of yours._

 _What would_ _ **Victor**_ _do?_

She shook her head, pulling her damp hair from her neck. "I have risked enough. My friends have risked enough, watching out for us. We have risked enough," she whispered. "Charles and I. _I_ have risked enough."

Dust rose from the road. A man guiding cattle past nodded to her. She stepped off the road to let him and his animals pass.

 _What would Sybil say?_

 _She loves children, naturally. And I think she would adore a brother or sister._

But her daughter would urge caution, she thought. She would remind her mother of the balance between her and the shepherd.

 _A child would upset the balance._

 _You do not know that._

Sighing, Elsie walked off the road at the bottom of the hill, making her way to the house.

It was warm inside, even with the window open to catch a possible breath of air (the wind had died completely), and the door propped open.

"Keep watch," she told the cat. The feline meowed. "For _mice_ , of course." She pulled the blanket across the room and laid down on the sheepskin.

Sleep did not come. Her thoughts whirled like leaves in a storm.

 _Of anyone in the divine realm, the one who would understand the most is Tom. He knows what Charles means to me, and what I mean to him…in some ways more than I do._

Neither she nor Charles had spoken of having a child for a long time. He had little reason to do so. What was the use, when she had told him it would be a provocation to the gods bordering on madness?

 _It IS madness._

Sighing, she turned over onto her side. _Then why am I even thinking of it?_

 _I am his wife. I know him._

Her man wanted a child.

Their child.

She knew he yearned for a child, though he had not breathed a word of it either out loud or in prayer.

Not even in his thoughts.

 _What of YOUR thoughts?_

 _What_ _ **I**_ _want does not matter as much as what would be best for Charles. For all of them._

At times she wanted to tell her husband of her struggle – there were no secrets between them.

 _No secrets, truly._

But there were things she did not say. Not just to protect him, and to keep him from bearing another burden, but also because he would never understand parts of her own experience.

 _He has not seen what I have seen._

Her stepmother's wrath when her father had strayed once again. Being in her father's favor one moment, and incurring His anger in the next. Marcas's delight in war. Victor's single-minded determination. Her uncle Peter, raising storms in the sea for no other reason than that he was bored.

The way so many of the gods used mortals when it suited them, only to cast them aside when they no longer wanted them. It was something that had astonished her in the mortal realm – the bonds between friends and neighbors; between mate and mate; husband and wife; lover and lover.

Between parents and children.

Elsie had not anticipated her own desire for a child being so strong. It had lain dormant for a long time, held at bay by her knowledge of what the gods could do.

But the goddess in her chafed at the restriction, and the woman in her glanced at rebellion. All of her hated being bound by her fears.

 _Not every woman, but many, desire a child at one time or another. Especially if they have a good man beside them._

 _ **You**_ _are not like every other woman._

 _You cannot be._

Her friends' love weakened her resolve further.

Anna's gentle prayers for her friend Elsie tugged at her heart. So did Phyllis's.

But She, Eala the goddess, had been stunned when shortly after Jacob and Emma's wedding, the farmer Tim and his wife Margie both had prayed for the shepherd Charles and his wife. For them to have a child. She had not expected that.

 _They care about us. All of them do._

 _But they do not know what they are asking._

The more prayers she received, the more difficult it was to say no.

 _What would the other mortals in the family think?_

It was dangerous to even think of giving in. Yet her mind raced ahead, thinking of possibilities.

Charles in the meadow with Nosi and a tall, auburn-haired girl.

She, spreading out cloaks to dry along the stream. A boy with curly black hair humming to himself in the tree.

Not that Elsie would _tell_ Thomas or Edward what she was considering – they certainly had no right to know, and would not want to know if they had the right – but she felt they would be delighted.

 _A brother, or another sister. They would be_ _ **so good**_ _with a child._

 _You know they would be._

What tempted her the most, however, was that so much had changed in their own home. Charles and Thomas's bond was stronger than ever. Edward was fully a part of the family. Sybil's affection for all of them had not changed, but she was closer than ever to her mortal relatives. Closer, Elsie, thought, than she had ever been with those of divine blood.

Daisy was dead.

 _Charles is not getting any younger._

Elsie had told him once that his love for her was enough. And it was. It always would be.

 _But he, like all mortals, yearns for what he should not have. Though he will never tell me of his wish again, believing it to be fruitless. He would be overjoyed to know I am thinking of changing my mind._

 _He thinks he knows how dangerous it would be…his joy would blind him._

 _Do not be blinded yourself. Do not let your heart blind you to the consequences._

 _It would be_ _madness_ _, to defy your father! To provoke Victor!_

Elsie rolled over again, trying to find a comfortable spot. It was easier said than done to tell herself again and again of what the gods' reaction would be.

 _Even if everyone you knew, divine or mortal, advised against it and told you it was folly, would you listen to them?_

 _It would not be the first time you did not listen._

She had been warned ages before about Marcas. She had not listened then; her willfulness in the face of everyone else's words was still talked of among the gods.

 _What became of that affair?_

 _Harmony._

"Stop," she muttered, her voice muffled against the sheepskin. " _Stop._ You do yourself no good, trying to justify your own desires."

The sound of Nosi barking woke her. Charles hummed as the fish sizzled, as he carefully put them in bowls.

"I'm glad you slept," he smiled at Elsie as they ate. "You needed it."

"I only wish I could have slept longer." She stifled a yawn. Her thoughts had continued even in her dreams. If anything, she felt more tired than before.

Frowning, Charles touched her hand. "The dogs were quiet. In the meadow, it was so peaceful I almost nodded off. What kept you awake?"

She kept her eyes on her half-empty bowl of fish, on her boiled potato. "The children."

"Wife," he said tenderly, kissing her hand, "Please try not to worry about them. They're all but grown – they can look after themselves. Especially Sybil. You know she wouldn't let anything happen to her brothers."

"I know…I'll try not to worry. But I won't succeed." Smiling at him, she felt love overwhelming her. These quiet moments with him brought her more joy than she could say.

 _If only I could stop thinking what if…_

* * *

The night was clear, except for one cloud that floated slowly across the moon. Elsie stood, leaning on her crook. A yawn nearly split her head in two.

Ve brushed against her leg. She pinched the palm of her hand.

 _Move, or else you'll go to sleep._

She began walking around the meadow. First towards the brow of the hill, looking over the roof of the hut where Charles slept. Then near the trees bordering the stream.

The flock was mostly quiet. Indeed, the very quiet _everywhere_ began to unnerve her the longer she walked. She looked up at the sky. A few stars glimmered.

 _What IS going on?_

Nothing.

Sighing, she shook her head and continued walking, humming a tune she had heard Jimmy singing.

Walking towards the ash tree, she was startled by Freya, who leapt up and suddenly streaked east. The dog barked once into the darkness, growling, her fur standing on end.

Then Elsie heard it.

Horses' hooves.

A group of horses galloped north through one of the abandoned meadows.

They thundered beneath the moon.

 _Nine, ten, eleven_ , she counted. Two white ones that gleamed in the moonlight, six others that looked grey but were likely tan or brown. A spirited black filly and a pale grey mare. In the middle of the group was a speckled stallion.

Running together, they moved as though riders were whipping them with every step, urging them on in all haste.

But they were riderless.

Elsie stood at the edge of the meadow as they approached. "Freya, watch the flock with Ve," she said to her dog. Freya turned and went back towards the flock and her mate.

At the sound of Elsie's voice, the horses changed course and galloped towards her.

She dropped her crook and stepped out of the meadow. The horses slowed and circled, moving around her like water in a fast-flowing stream. They were not content; they whinnied and reared.

 _Something – or some_ _ **one**_ _– has disturbed them._

It angered Elsie. The horses had all been healthy at one time. Clearly, they had been well cared for. But now they were foaming at the mouth, exhausted.

The stallion shied, neighing wildly. The others scattered away from him, running in the direction of the spring.

"To me," Elsie beckoned the stallion closer. Her voice was low. "Here."

His eyes were huge, his ears were up, and he snorted, his big hooves thumping onto the ground.

 _He is terrified._

 _No man did this to him._

Slowly gesturing, she encouraged him. He whinnied, his head going up and down. But he came closer to her until he was close enough to touch. Then she patted his neck and ran her hand down his nose. He quieted, calm at last.

Her calm was shattered.

 _ **Derick**_ _did this. Marcas's son._

 _He did this to all of you._

 _You most of all._

Soothing the stallion, she sensed the animal's turmoil.

 _His rider on his back, along with a number of other horses and riders. The sun gleamed off a large lake in the north…then they entered in a forest of trees near evening._

 _An ambush in the dark. Men screaming, fighting, trying to run._

 _Attacked by cloaked men who surrounded them with torches. Who shot flaming arrows. The dry trees caught fire._

 _The stallion's rider was hit by an arrow, and fell. The horse panicked. He, along with eleven of his fellow horses, fought their way through the tangle of burning woods and escaped._

 _They were pursued by an unseen being who whispered in their ears, maddened them, and spurred them into a reckless gallop._

 _One horse ran until he fell and died. His brothers and sisters mourned him, but the unseen force made them continue on._

 _They encountered a group of men who tried to stop them. One man got close enough to the stallion to try and put a rope harness about his neck, but the spirit whispered in his ear, he kicked, and –_

The stallion bowed his head. Elsie pressed her face against his neck, comforting him. "It was not your fault," she whispered. "That man's death. You never would have kicked him if you had not been _made_ to."

Fury flooded through her.

She held an animosity towards both of Marcas's sons. Philip was wild, bloodthirsty, and cruel. He was also stupid.

Derick, on the other hand, had inherited some of his aunt Athena's cleverness. He used it for nothing good – terrorizing men and horses in battle, causing them to lose their wits, or inflicting them with the rage of battle, to cause more death.

 _He has his father's arrogance, without any of his charm._

Sometimes she wondered what she had ever seen in the God of War.

 _You have a temper, too. Once your passion was wild. That was what drew you to him._

The stallion snorted.

"Say farewell to your fears," Elsie murmured, stroking his nose. "Be free of them. Do not be ruled by them."

She walked beside him to where the spring bubbled up from beneath the ground. The other horses were there. While the stallion drank, she touched each of the other horses, comforting them, purging them of the madness that Derick had inflicted upon them.

They circled her once more in tribute, then trotted away north. At peace once more, and free.

She picked up her crook in the meadow. Watching the sheep, she wondered at what the stallion had seen. She could only see what he had; she had no more idea of what had happened to his rider, or who had attacked them all, than the horse knew.

But the glimpse of the lake he had seen was familiar to her.

 _What was Derick doing in Merton?_

* * *

Fog was thick on the river and in the village. It seeped into the forge, held at bay by the growing fire.

Victor pumped the bellows as it grew lighter. Usually he would not be at the forge so early, but he had good reason to be on this morning.

John appeared, holding a torch.

"Good morning, Master Burns," he said. "I did not expect you to be here this early." He smiled. "Andy was still sleeping when I left – it is far too early for him to be awake. Have you broken your fast?"

Victor shook his head. "No," he straightened up. By habit, he ran his hands over the hammers and tongs arranged in a line along the hearth, and checked the level of water in the trough next to it. "Good morning, Master John."

"Here," John tore a chunk of his bread in half and sat down on the low mud brick wall. "Eat with me."

"Thank you."

The two ate in silence. Other than the chirping of birds through the fog, it was pleasantly quiet.

The bread was good, but Victor found it hard to chew. Even harder to swallow. He knew Anna must have made it, either the day before or early that morning.

"I wanted to speak with you before the lads or anyone else got here," he said finally, brushing crumbs off his callused hands. He forced himself to look John in the eye. "I…have decided to accept the King of Hexham's offer. I will be leaving Downton."

John blinked, then cleared his throat. "I am sorry to hear that," he said finally. "Though it doesn't come as a surprise. His Lordship is a good master, and he will be very fortunate to have you…I have been very fortunate to have you here." He looked away, clearly trying to control himself.

The stoic man's emotions touched the Fire God. Tears welled in his eyes. " _I_ am the fortunate one," he croaked. "To work with such an honest man. You are a good blacksmith, John, and an even better friend."

He dared not say anything more. To spare both himself and John any embarrassment.

To say farewell was the hardest decision he had ever made.

 _I will never see any of them again._

But he could not ignore Athena's call any more, or his growing sense of unease. What happened in the heavens mattered both to the gods _and_ to the mortals; he would never forgive himself if calamity rained down on his friends and he had done nothing to stop it.

 _The best way to help them is to be able to see what is going on. No matter how much I want to stay._

Leaving his friends was like hammering metal too hard, and it breaking in two.

 _Is it metal breaking, or my heart?_

It would astonish Eala and all the gods, he thought ruefully, to learn he had a heart.

 _I wish I did not, but I do._

It had always been there, but it seemed his mortal friends were the first to uncover it.

He also felt guilt over deceiving Bertie. The kind young king's offer was a convenient way for the hidden Fire God to leave Downton, but he had no intention of ever reaching Brancaster.

 _I hate to think of what Anna will think when she hears the news._

 _There is no other way._

 _It is not as though I could take divine form in front of her._

"I am glad to have your friendship," John said quietly, shaking Victor from his thoughts. "Very glad." He flicked a finger at the corner of his eye and sniffed.

"You will always have it. You and Anna both." Victor swallowed. "I want to tell her myself – I don't want to leave it to someone else. Not even you."

"I understand. She sent me along this morning with an invitation. To invite you to our home tomorrow for a meal. You, Daniel of course, Joseph and Phyllis and Lily too. My wife's feeling much better and wanted to have our friends over." John gave him a sad grin. "I suppose you could tell her then."

"I don't like to bring news that will make her sad," Victor rubbed his beard. "But yes, I will. I won't tell the lads until then, either."

His heart ached. _They will be hurt. They won't understand._

The thought of leaving the baby hurt enough.

 _She won't remember me._

 _I will remember her._

 _I will remember all of them._

 _Always._


	77. The Choices Made

**A/N:**

 **First of all, it's Super Bowl Sunday as I post this, so if you're reading this, it's probably Monday. I don't mind. THANK YOU for coming back!**

 **So it's been way too long since this story was updated. I'm sorry.**

 **New job = new routine = me trying to write and not always succeeding, massive work project, new fic (of course, because I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH FICS hanging out here), holidays, travel, and illnesses (more than once).**

 **You will** _ **not**_ **have to wait months before the next Winter update. Like, it will still be winter in the Northern Hemisphere.**

 **Please, if you have time, let me know what you think. I've been horrible with responding to reviews but I do read all of them, long and short.**

 **A quick summary (is such a thing possible? I'll do my best): At the king's hall, Ethan is dead and is thought to have been murdered by someone unknown. Thomas is serving the visiting King of Carlisle, though he is not sure what he thinks of the man. Sybil does not like the visiting king, but cannot figure out a reason. She is more worried because Tom (a/k/a the Messenger God) had promised to come visit her, but he never appeared.**

 **Freya and her puppies are alert to some sort of danger lurking nearby. Humans are sometimes aware of the dogs' agitation, and sometimes they ignore it. Which is unwise, of course. Reminder of the dogs' names: Drini belongs to Robert now (though she's devoted to George), Kap is with John and Anna, Vyr belongs to Alfred, and Nosi is with Charles and Elsie.**

 **Elsie knows that the God of War's son Derick was in Merton, but beyond that she does not know why. She is struggling with her own desires for a child, especially because she sees her friends around her happy. And she is keenly aware of what Charles wants.** _ **He**_ **is trying to spare her feelings, but in this AU as in canon, she can read him very well.**

 **Bertie, the King of Hexham, has asked John's fellow blacksmith, known as Master Burns or Old Joe, to be his blacksmith. The hidden Fire God has told John that he is leaving Downton, and that's where we pick up the story again…**

* * *

As Victor sat beside his fire, the night deepened around him. He knew he needed to sleep – the day had been long like all the others, and the next would be more difficult.

 _I have to tell her. That I'm leaving._

 _For good._

It had been hard enough telling John he was accepting Bertie's offer to go to Hexham.

The thought of telling Anna was heart-breaking.

 _Your heart, not hers. She is strong…she has survived grief._

Like never before, he tested his own strength and instead found weakness. Maybe it had always been there. A bubble of air in iron, never hammered out.

He sighed and pulled on his beard. Wild thoughts of going to his friends, of telling them he'd changed his mind.

 _You have not sent word to Bertie yet. There is still time._

 _No._

 _You cannot._

 _You MUST think of what is best for them. Not for you._

A hundred times he went back and forth.

 _Once I make this choice, there is no looking back. No wondering whether I should have gone another way._

 _The will of the Divine is Law._

"You told John," Victor grunted to himself, his callused hands on his knees. "You told him you were leaving, and that's the end of it."

 _You need to rest._

And yet he could not bring himself to go to sleep. He wanted to sit outside, listening to the crickets chirp.

An owl hooted in a distant tree. The stars glowed ever brighter above him while the sky faded from deep purple, to blue, then black.

 _The earth is beautiful to behold from above. Being here in it, I can see its own, unique beauty._

He turned his attention to the flickering flames. His friends were either sleeping, or getting ready for bed. He would eat with them at John and Anna's the next day. Enjoy their company.

 _Soon I will not be able to touch them. Speak with them, and have them answer back._

Reminding himself of why he was leaving, he leaned back against a tree stump. "It is more important that they are safe, than me being with them," he reminded himself.

 _I will still be with them. As long as they live._

 _They will just not see me._

 _Or hear me._

 _Or know I am beside them._

He steeled himself, knowing that he would have glimpses of them through the fire in his forge. John and the lads at work; Joseph, Phyllis, and Lily in their home; Anna and her growing shape as she baked or warmed herself.

 _I wonder if she will have a boy or girl._

 _Eala would know now._

 _She DOES know._

The thought of his betrothed gave a lift to his heart. It was not just for his friends' safety and his own worry that he was returning to divine form.

 _I am doing it for Her sake, too._

 _Even though She does not know. Or care._

 _She might, in later years._

Victor let out a long breath through his nose, resting his hand on his cheek. His beard smoldered, and he brushed bits of ash off his fingers. Athena would have poured water on him if she had been there.

 _The humans have no idea…in mortal form, Eala is irresistible. In divine form, She would drive them mad._

It was the gods that worried him. He had never forgotten (how could he forget?) what he had seen of the goddess in mortal form. Of how her joy flowed just beneath the surface.

How her love for the mortal man was written on her face.

 _If I see it, who else sees it?_

 _Perhaps no one. Even if someone does, they might not care. Many will laugh at Her later._

Sometimes it seemed ridiculous to him – _the Goddess, in love with a_ man!

But She was his betrothed, his promised wife.

He felt anger flame deep inside him. With difficulty, he smothered it.

 _Eala, could you have not restrained yourself for ONCE?_

He felt a little chastened, thinking of his own behavior. Saving that girl from the monster who attacked her at Midsummer; teaching the lads at the forge; sitting with John in pleasant silence. Watching as Toby slipped further from life.

He swallowed. Lily, yanking his beard. Anna's sunny smile.

 _Do you call that restraint?_

When he had first taken mortal form, he had never imagined he would feel the way he felt, or do the things he'd done. The mortals had exposed a part of him that he had not known was there.

He knew when he took his usual form again that it would be hidden, like a single spark in the midst of a roaring fire. Consumed in the fire of his divinity.

Victor would never forget the mortal side of himself. The gods never forgot anything.

But it would be set aside.

He hugged his knees, tears dripping into his beard.

 _I am a god. Older than time…if I will it, a mountain cracks asunder. Fire boils from beneath the ground._

 _So why do I feel weaker than the mortals?_

* * *

The morning Victor left, a little group clustered near the bridge. The sun glowed dimly, through a thick fog.

Bertie was sending a few other servants home to Brancaster. They waited in a nearby wagon.

Anna's blue eyes were filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Master Joe," she whispered, dragging her finger beneath her eye. "I promised I wouldn't cry." She tried to smile. "I am glad for you, truly. For the King of Hexham to want you as his blacksmith…it is a great honor. I just wish you didn't have to go away."

"Neither do I," he whispered. "But it seems that's where my luck has taken me." He gave her a long hug. Giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek, he stepped back. "I will miss you. All of you." He looked at the others who had come to say farewell. John and Andy. Daniel, with his grandmother. Phyllis and Joseph and baby Lily.

Joseph extended his hand. "May the gods protect you, and may you always be fortunate with friends," he said, rather solemn. "My dad used to say that. For a long time I didn't believe what he said, but my luck turned out all right in the end. Yours will, too."

Victor took his hand, murmuring thanks. The wheelwright was an honest fellow, if a bit slow to see things around him.

 _He sees some things that others do not._

 _He's always felt there was something different about me._

 _And yet he is always kind to me._

 _Not all mortals are like him._

"Well said," Andy took his turn. "I'll always remember what you taught me, Master Burns. In the forge, as well as out of it."

"You're a good lad," Victor patted him on the shoulder.

 _He will always carry some grief with him._

Lily was in Victor's arms when suddenly Daniel gasped and raced around him. "No, boy-"

Kap streaked towards the Fire God. Andy threw himself onto the dog, and dragged him aside. "Mistress Anna, I'm so sorry! I thought I shut the gate to the pen."

"No doubt it was shut," John said, moving his crutch so that it provided an extra block to the growling dog. "But it seems Kap wanted to get out. So he did."

Cuddling Lily close, Victor gave her one last kiss. Her scent was sweet. _All babies smell a little like the Divine Realm._ He grinned to himself as she wriggled. _Until they soil their swaddling clothes._

He handed her to Joseph, but not before letting her tug on his beard once more. Phyllis laughed when he hugged her.

"You won't miss her pulling your hair, I'm sure."

"I will," he smiled, his eyes sad.

 _More than she will ever know._

Kap finally succeeded in slipping through Andy's arms.

"Watch out, Master!" The apprentice yelled.

Victor let go of Phyllis and turned to face the agitated animal. Kap skidded to a stop right in front of him, growling. His teeth were bared. His eyes met Victor's, and he grew quiet.

The god decided to risk it. He crouched down, keeping his eyes on Kap the whole time. When he held his hand close to the dog's nose, John shook his head.

"You shouldn't do that. Kap, _back_ -"

Kap flicked his tongue out, lowering his head, as he warily watched Victor.

Then he licked the god's hand.

Anna burst into tears. John put his arm around her. "My darling, it's all right…Kap didn't bite him."

"Or try, for once," Andy said, his eyebrows raised. He and Daniel stared at each other, open-mouthed.

"I k-know," Anna stuttered. "But he's leaving and even _Kap_ wants to be friends, and wants him to stay!"

"I doubt that," Victor pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. Kap sniffed politely at his sandals. He patted him on the head. "And we're not friends. But I think, at last, we understand each other."

Animal and god surveyed each other.

 _Take care of them,_ Victor told him silently. _All of them. Guard them with all your strength._

 _Especially Anna. And her child._

None of the others noticed, but Kap gave him one nod.

Victor patted Daniel on the back and shook John's hand. Then he hugged Anna one last time. One of the servants on the wagon helped him up, and they set off. Victor waved at his friends. All of them waved in return, wishing him good fortune.

Kap ran after the wagon until it came to the crossroads north of Downton. When it turned, he barked and ran back to the village.

Victor watched until the dog disappeared into the mist. Tears blurred his vision.

 _To think I would be sad, seeing the back of Freya's pup!_

 _It must be this way._

 _I will always remember them._

* * *

Sitting on the hill, Charles heard the sound of laughter bubbling from inside the hut. It made him smile.

And it also made his heart ache.

 _Elsie loves Emma's nieces and nephew. She enjoys it when they visit us._

 _How much more would she love her own child!_

He shook his head, and gripped his crook so hard his knuckles turned white.

 _You_ _ **know**_ _it's true._

He knew his wife well, even when she did not speak her thoughts aloud.

It hurt to keep his own thoughts from her. And it took more of his will to keep from speaking of it, and even _thinking_ of it, when he said his nightly prayers to Eala.

Of all the ironies, the most profound to Charles was this: it was natural to pray to the Divine Lady to bless his wife with a child. He had done so long before, when his wife was Alice.

But there was no one to hear his words now.

 _Not when the Goddess of Love is my wife._

Inside, Nosi whined as three of the little girls chattered, kneading dough. She licked around the edges of the hearth, eating the flour that dropped onto the floor.

Elsie noticed the mess the children were making, and her ever-present dog enjoying the results.

 _Never mind._

 _I would rather have them here._

The youngest girl hummed to herself as she moved scraps of cloth from one basket to the other.

"Can I keep this one, Mistress?" She asked Elsie, holding up a faded piece. She spoke with a slight lisp making the last word sound like _mithtreth_. The endearing sound made the shepherdess smile, and her heart twinge.

" _May_ I. Yes, you may keep that one, as well as the other ones. Your mother can help you sew them together, into whatever you wish."

The girl gave her a gap-toothed smile, before going back to her sorting. For a moment, Elsie allowed her mind to wander. Imagined herself cording wool or sorting through old scraps of cloth.

With another basket at her side, an infant sleeping there.

 _No._

She shook her head. Thankfully, the girls making bread needed her attention. It distracted her from thinking too much.

"Not so hard, dear," she murmured to the chestnut-haired girl. "Be gentle with the dough. Else it will be flat once it's baked."

"Like this?" The child folded over her dough and pushed her small fists into it. Her earnestness reminded Elsie of Daisy. She nodded.

"Yes, like that."

The girls' brother had already kneaded his dough to Elsie's satisfaction. He played with the cat, then picked up an old blanket and stuffed it down his tunic. Elsie suppressed a laugh as he wiggled his hips, waving his arms in the air.

"Who are you supposed to be? You're the _ugliest_ Divine Lady I ever saw!" cried his oldest sister. He stuck out his tongue at her.

"I am NOT the Divine Lady," he cried, twirling in a circle. "I'm the Harvest Goddess!"

Elsie laughed so hard she had to sit down. "Come here, lad," she reached for the boy when he danced close to her. She grabbed him and kissed him on the cheek. "The Harvest Goddess would love your imitating her!" Giving him a playful swat, she let him go and looked over the girls' work again. "I think it is time to bake the bread," she said. "Your aunt will be here by midday, and you'll want to give her some of what you made, yes?"

"Yes!"

"Aunt Emma will like mine best!"

"No, _mine!_ "

Elsie had to step in before a fight ensued. The children were good most of the time, but at times they also fought like cats and dogs.

She enjoyed looking after them. More than she dared admit to Charles.

Though she thought perhaps he knew. She had seen him glance at her, watching her earlier that morning as she took the children up to the source of the stream.

 _I must think of what is best for him. And for the rest of our family._

 _Not what would be best for ME._

* * *

A hot wind rustled the dry grass on the hill. One of Old Sally's lambs wandered over to Elsie, and she gratefully gathered it into her arms.

 _I do love holding little ones close._

She could hear the children laughing from the meadow. Charles glanced up the hill, frowning.

"Emma knows better than to let them distract Alfred while he's watching the flock. Especially not with Stephen there…Alfred needs to teach the lad. I should go and-"

"No," Elsie cuddled the lamb, smiling when it mewled. "Stay here, and let them be. Emma won't stay in the meadow long, she has to take the children home. And Stephen is doing very well. You said it yourself."

Stephen, the younger brother of John's apprentice Daniel, had come to be an apprentice to Charles and Elsie. The couple were happy to have another lad to help watch the flocks. After James would leave in the autumn, they would not have to find another apprentice.

"He is doing well," Charles settled back down onto the ground. "But it is vital he understands that the sheep are his first responsibility."

"I know you have told him that," she murmured drily, running her fingers through the lamb's wool. "Many times. _And_ Alfred. I've even heard James tell him."

 _Charles has more influence on the lads than he realizes._

"Besides, you can hardly blame either Stephen or Alfred for wanting to talk to Emma, or joke with the children," she continued. "They _do_ like to see other people. Other than James, and you and I."

The corners of Charles's lips turned up. "What? Are you saying they get bored with us?"

"Maybe you, dear. Not with James. Certainly not with me." She winked at him, and he laughed.

"Never with you." He began unwrapping the loaf of bread and cheese she had brought to him. "Alfred's used to the loneliness. It takes some getting used to."

 _Being a shepherd means you will be lonely often._

 _I'm used to it, but the lads have known what life is like away from the sheep._

In truth, he thought it likely that Alfred relished making Emma's nieces and nephew laugh. The young man was a favorite with them.

Elsie shooed the lamb off, letting him run back to his mother. She and Charles enjoyed a quiet meal.

He savored the fresh bread in his mouth. The brown crust was not burnt, and the inside of the loaf was soft. "Mmm, this is good," he swallowed, brushing crumbs off his hands. Nosi sniffed at the ground by his feet. "Which child made that loaf?"

"None of them made that one," Elsie set the rest of the cheese aside. " _I_ made it."

He leaned over and kissed her. "It was delicious. Thank you."

"You sound surprised," she arched an eyebrow.

Her expression made him stutter, and wish it was sunset. "I-I'm not surprised…you bake very good bread-"

She laughed, throwing her head back. Her hair, mostly red with brown and grey and gold strands mixed in, was whipped by the breeze. The lines at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth only made her more beautiful, he thought. "Oh Charles," she hiccupped, "You are a lovely man, but you are a _hopeless_ liar."

"You do make good bread," he protested. "Ivy and Emma both say so."

"And you are surprised by it," she ran a finger along his hairline, moving aside his curls. "You are always a little surprised when I bake bread that isn't burnt, or raw on the inside. I know you." She smiled to let him know she was not angry with him.

He tilted his head. "Yes, you do."

She moved closer to him, her leg against his, leaning her head on his shoulder. For a while she fell asleep. When her eyes fluttered open, he kissed her nose.

"You should go sleep inside. There's more shade there, anyway."

"I'd rather stay with you," she yawned. "Having the children visit always makes the house seem emptier once they leave."

Her voice was wistful.

There was a long silence. He wondered if he should say something aloud, make his thoughts clear.

 _Maybe there's no need. She knows me, and I know her._

 _What use is there to say it?_

 _Our grown children do not get to come home often._

 _If we had another child, our home would not be as empty._

 _I want another child. No matter that my hands shake sometimes, and I see more grey hair in my reflection every day…or that my wife is the Goddess, and has told me it is impossible._

 _This is not about what_ _ **I**_ _want,_ he reminded himself.

"Stay as long as you like," he linked his hand through Elsie's, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. "I am glad to have you here. _More_ than glad."

Nosi had gone below the brow of the hill, towards the lads' hut beneath the massive oak tree. When Charles whistled for her, she came right away. She trotted right past him, though, and climbed onto his wife's lap. A lump formed in Charles's throat.

 _She knows how she is feeling, too._

"Where were you?" Elsie murmured to the dog, looking her over. "In the shade, by the hawthorn bushes? You have brambles stuck on you…" She began picking through Nosi's tangled fur.

Standing up to stretch his legs, Charles waved at a passing farmer on the road. There were two figures further behind the man heading south from Downton. The shepherd squinted, holding his hand over his eyes. The sun was high.

As the figures got closer, he realized there were three of them, not two. He turned to Elsie, a huge smile splitting his face.

"It's the children-"

Nosi sprang away from Elsie and hurtled down the hill, barking. Edward ran ahead a little of Thomas and Sybil, and grabbed the delighted dog. She whined, happy, trying to lick his face. She wriggled so much he struggled to keep hold of her.

"We missed you too, girl."

Sybil ran straight up the hill and into her mother's arms.

"Dear one," Elsie laughed and hugged her close, tears spilling down her cheeks. "What a surprise! Why didn't you write and _tell_ us you were coming-"

She did not really care; it was enough that they were there.

 _I needed this._

 _I needed them._

The ache in her heart was chased away, like clouds after a storm.

"We didn't know, not until this morning," Sybil kissed her cheek. She hugged her mother again, glad to give her comfort. Beside her and Elsie, Charles clapped Thomas on the back.

"We thought we wouldn't see you all until the Harvest Festival!"

"Are you disappointed?" Thomas grinned. "We can leave now, and go back to the hall…"

"Not a chance," Charles gripped his shoulder hard. "You're here now, and that's all that matters." He smiled in Elsie's direction. His heart lifted further at seeing her joy. "Your mother was lonely, but not anymore. How long can you stay?"

 _I missed them, too._

"Just until the morning," Thomas said. Standing on the land where he grew up, seeing the delight on Papa and Mother's faces, he wished it could be for longer. "There's another banquet tomorrow evening, and we're all needed for that."

Charles's smile slipped a little. "Well, we will enjoy the time we have together."

They sat on the hill eating figs and cheese. Elsie told them news from Downton, not that there was much to tell. Most people were worried about the lack of rain.

Thomas chewed a fig slowly as his father asked about the court. He and Sybil glanced at each other, something that Elsie did not miss.

Edward began telling their parents about small things – Miss Marigold playing with her grandmother and Aunt Rosamund; Master George insisting that Thomas play with him and his cousin every day; how crowded the hall was.

He quirked a grin when he mentioned Reuben, the Hexham guard who Sybil had befriended.

"He's in love with you," he teased her.

"What's this?" Charles turned abruptly from watching the flock. "Who are you talking about?"

"Reuben is not _in love with me_ ," Sybil rolled her eyes. Meeting her mother's skeptical gaze, she gathered her skirt around her legs. "Oh, all right, he _likes_ me a little. But he's harmless. A friend. That's _all_."

"I don't like the sound of this," Charles muttered. Though he was well aware that Sybil was a goddess, and could easily protect herself from any unwanted advances, in front of Thomas and Edward he had to act like any father would.

"I don't like it either," Thomas agreed. "Sybil's right, he is harmless," he grudgingly admitted. "But I wish you would put him off, instead of encouraging him," he said to his sister.

"Are you encouraging him?" Elsie asked. She knew Sybil would never do such a thing – she was madly in love with Tom.

" _No_ ," Sybil huffed, answering her mother but looking at Thomas. "I am just being friendly!"

"I'm not sure poor Reuben knows the difference." Edward snorted, laughing.

"Be careful," Elsie squeezed Sybil's hand. "You don't want to break his heart."

 _I know,_ her daughter answered silently.

"With all the additional men at court, I am surprised there hasn't been more trouble," Charles said, resting his foot on a rock. "Fights over women, and that sort of thing. We did get your news about Ethan…it's very sad, but accidents do happen."

It was as though he had thrown cold water over the younger ones.

Edward stopped laughing and sat up, and Thomas and Sybil both tensed, their backs rigid.

"What is it?" Elsie asked. She felt an overwhelming sense of dread, especially when Thomas nodded at Sybil.

She took a deep breath, her blue eyes sad. "To be honest…Ethan is why we're here," she said. "Well, mostly. Lady Mary wanted to give me a chance to come home before the Harvest Festival, since the lads already came home once. Then it worked out that they got to come home, too."

 _And depending on the choice Mary makes, we may not get another chance after the Festival._

 _The guests at the hall cannot stay forever._

"That was the king's doing," Thomas interjected. "He knew we…were upset about Ethan." He ran a hand through his hair, his grey eyes troubled. "Fortunately, the king of Carlisle is spending most of today and tomorrow with his steward, sending letters and such, and he didn't need me waiting on him."

"Of course you were upset about Ethan, you knew him as well as anyone," Charles said. "And for him to die so suddenly-"

"He was killed," Edward's voice was soft, but clear. "Murdered. By who, or why, no one knows. And not many people at court know the truth of it. The only reason _we_ do is because the night he went missing, Thomas found him."

Elsie and Charles's eyes met, their faces showing the same shock.

 _WHAT!?_

Charles's heart dropped straight into the ground. _And Thomas found him..._ Whatever his son had seen, it had clearly affected him badly. "By the gods. My poor boy." He set down his crook and laid a hand on Thomas's head, just as he used to when he was a child. He ruffled his hair. "That must have been terrible!"

"It was," Thomas whispered. Papa's hand on his head comforted him a little. The image of Ethan's broken body flickered through his memory, of Master Richard gently holding his head.

 _Ethan had no one to comfort him when he died._

 _I knew it,_ Elsie thought. She clutched Sybil's hand so hard that if the young woman had been a mortal, she would have broken it. _I_ _ **felt**_ _something was wrong._

She listened with horror along with Charles as Thomas told them what had happened. She got up halfway through the story and sat behind him, easing an arm around her son's shoulders.

 _He feels a burden…responsible, in a way._

"It was not your fault," she murmured when he was finished. "Whoever killed him is the one to blame."

"Sybil and I keep telling you that," Edward rubbed Thomas's back.

Wiping the back of his hand across his cheek, Thomas sighed. "I know…but it was so sudden…and he deserved better on his last day than to have been run ragged by Master Henry, me, and everyone else…and then killed," he mumbled.

They were all quiet for a moment, lost in thought.

"Why don't you two go for a swim?" Sybil asked. "It's been so warm, and you both deserve some time alone."

Thomas laughed under his breath. "Is that you asking nicely for us to wash ourselves? Because we stink?"

She smiled, showing her dimples. "I would never say that."

"You think it, though, and you're right," Edward got up. He gave Thomas a hand and pulled his mate to his feet. "We won't be long. We came here to see you," he looked at Charles and Elsie, "not to go off by ourselves."

"Go," Elsie encouraged them. "Your father has to watch the flock until sunset. And I need to make sure we have enough food for the evening meal. We weren't expecting _more_ visitors. As welcome as all of you are!"

Thomas was grateful for the chance to go, as much as he liked his parents' company. At the hall he never got the chance to be alone, and he knew Edward would give him space while they swam.

 _It is not your fault Ethan died, Elsie said._

When his stepmother said it, he felt comforted like he hadn't been before, even with Edward and Sybil telling him the same thing.

The two young men disappeared up the hill on their way to the lake. Elsie waited until they were gone, then reached for Sybil's hand again.

"You were thinking about a smell, but it was not your brothers."

Sybil's eyes flickered towards Charles. "No. It wasn't."

The shepherd's eyebrows furrowed. "If the two of you need to talk alone, I understand. For as much as I tell the lads not to have people with them while they watch the sheep, _I_ should be a better example. And I am just a man," he mumbled, feeling insignificant.

 _They are both Divine, and surely must talk of important things._

"We will stay here," Sybil said to him, seeing through him. "Yes, you are mortal, but you are my mother's husband and the only true father I have ever known. What I have to say, you have a right to hear as well."

Charles felt a rush of emotion.

 _The Goddess of Peace thinks of_ _me_ _as her father._

He nodded, unable to speak, blinking back tears.

Sybil spoke for a long time. About the tense atmosphere before the arrival of the King of Carlisle. The choice before Lady Mary. Drini having to be kept away from nearly everyone except Robert's grandchildren.

"She knew," Elsie said, speaking of the dog. "She knew there was danger nearby – you say Thomas saw her the night Ethan was killed?"

Sybil nodded. "One of the kennel men was struggling to hold her back. She kept trying to run out of the hall into the woods."

Glancing down the hill at Nosi, who had wandered over by the stream, Charles felt a chill. "The dogs here have been barking at odd times, and in different places. As though someone was lurking nearby…"

"Have you _seen_ anyone?" Sybil raised her eyebrows.

"No, and there's been no sign that if there was, that they were Divine," Elsie added, reassuring her. "I would know, as would Freya and her pups."

"The scrap of cloth that was found where Ethan died held no clue. It smelled only like the woods, the earth, and the sweat of a common man." Sybil frowned, lines appearing on her forehead. She looked older to Charles.

 _She IS old._

 _Far older than me._

"So Ethan's murderer was a man." Elsie's heart sank a little. As terrifying as the presence of the Divine would be, mortals stirring up mischief were far more difficult to pin down.

 _While Sybil and I are in mortal form, that is._

"Yes. Just a man – but who is he? Why would he do such a thing?" Sybil yanked hair over her ear. It was clear to Charles and Elsie that she felt particularly vexed about the mystery. " _Ethan_ …" she shook her head. "Thomas was right. If a guard, someone like Reuben had been killed, it would be easier to understand. Fights over gold or women-"

"Men, and women for that matter, do not always need a reason to kill," Elsie said low, her eyes far away. "Sometimes they do evil simply because they can."

It was not in the Goddess of Peace's nature to dwell on the darkness that sometimes lurked in the mortals' hearts.

But the Goddess of Love had seen it all – dishonesty, cunning, anger, hatred. Genuine compassion turned to a lust for power.

 _How easy it is for mortals to turn from the light into darkness. Even without the gods' meddling._

"Perhaps your husband will know something," Charles glanced in Sybil's direction, then resumed his watch over the flock. A large ram ambled by him. "He comes to visit you often, doesn't he?"

There was a long silence, one so long that it pulled Elsie from her musings. Sybil sat back on her heels.

Her eyes scanned the sky, as though she would will the Messenger God into appearing.

"He hasn't come?" Elsie whispered.

Her daughter shook her head. "He promised to visit me while the lads were here the last time," she murmured. "But he never came. And I have not seen him at all since then, either."

A thousand theories flew through Elsie's mind. One thought prevailed itself over the others.

 _That explains why the heavens have been so quiet._

Her son-in-law brought messages to and from the gods, and rarely, from the gods to mortals. Of course everyone in the divine realm spoke as much as they liked ( _sometimes too much_ ), but his presence illuminated their speech. Stars twinkled, the roar of the sea sounded like a man with a rising temper, even a quiet sunset would have peaceful whispers that the mortals could perceive.

 _He has been silenced._

It had not happened for a long time, but it would not be the first time.

 _ **Why**_ _has he been silenced?_

 _And by whom?_

That, at least, she could guess. Though it gave her no comfort.

 _There is only one god with the power, or the authority, to do so._

"Tom said he was going to try to speak to William," Sybil was saying. "He said he had not seen him all summer."

"If he spoke to William in the fields, near to where Beryl and Albert are, Father might have got hold of him," Elsie breathed out. She put a hand on her chest and forced herself to take a breath, then another. As a goddess, breathing was not needed, but as a woman, she enjoyed the soothing practice.

Especially now.

Sybil and Charles's eyes widened. They both spoke at once.

"If your father knows about us-"

"The King would not just hold Tom without letting him _see_ me-"

Elsie held up her other hand, thinking furiously. The other two quieted.

"It may be that the King of the Gods knows," she murmured. Her eyes lifted to meet Charles's. "About us. You and I. And if He does – then perhaps we have some hope."

"What! _How_?" Charles asked, his heart feeling as though it would beat right out of his chest. His legs went weak. He sat down, dropping his crook onto the dusty ground. Sybil put a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

 _How could we have HOPE?_

The very thought of the King of the Gods knowing about him – a nothing shepherd from nowhere – marrying the Goddess of Love, was terrifying.

"If He was in a rage, we would know it." Elsie said it with absolute certainty. She looked up into the hot white sky, the sun beating down on them.

 _His wrath is never subtle._

 _Neither is Victor's._

For a brief instant, she thought about Beryl and her family. If the King of the Gods knew about Elsie and Charles, then He would also know that the Harvest Goddess had tried to shield the truth from Him.

 _He might be annoyed, but nothing more._

 _Or he might be angry._

 _There is nothing I can do to help my friends._

"I agree with you about Grandfather," Sybil said. She removed her hand from Charles's shoulder when Elsie took his hand. "But there is so much we don't know right now. Where Tom is, why he didn't come…what or who the dogs are afraid of. Who killed Ethan, and why I can't trust Carlisle." She frowned. "If Tom is under Grandfather's power, who is watching the Master of Fire?"

Elsie flinched. The same thought had occurred to her.

 _Even if Victor is still ignorant, it would not do to have no one watching him._

"Maybe William; he said he would try," Sybil mused, her finger on her cheek. "But we can't be sure. It would be _so_ much easier if I went home."

Charles's head snapped up. "Leave here? What about Thomas and Edward? I-I know you must think of greater things than them," he stammered, trying to explain. It was never far from his mind, the plans they had made the previous summer, the promises Elsie's- _Eala's_ friends had made, but at the moment he felt selfish.

 _What about me?_

Sybil's face appeared so young to him, but her eyes were old and full of sadness. And pity. He was sure she knew what he was thinking.

 _You are the only daughter left to me._

"The lads would not understand, and it would make it all the more difficult since they would never see you again," he swallowed. "You said before that if you left you could never come back. And what about Lady Mary? You told us she is facing a very difficult choice – _she_ needs you now, too. I know I must sound like her grandmother-"

"You do," murmured Elsie, squeezing his hand.

"-but I know you care about her. And for many of us in Downton."

Sybil got up and walked a little away from them, looking down the hill. The wind blew through the long strands of her dark hair.

Biting her lip, Elsie watched her daughter's back. She could do little to sway her one way or the other. And she did not want to.

 _She must decide what is best._

Her own heart was torn. Her place, while Charles lived, was by his side. She would never leave him. But her daughter carried her own responsibilities, and her own burdens.

 _If she leaves, I will understand._

 _But I would miss her terribly._

The sheep bawled on the hill. Behind Charles and Elsie, the meadow was quiet except for answering calls from the other animals. Emma had gone home with the children.

Sybil paced back and forth, slowing only to pat Ve when the sheepdog approached her. She clasped her hands behind her back, her shoulders straight.

"I will stay," the Goddess of Peace said finally.

Charles let out a breath he did not know he was holding. He was glad for Thomas and Edward's sake, for Lady Mary's, and for Elsie's.

And for his own sake, too.

He pushed himself up with his crook and embraced Sybil. "Thank you," he murmured into her hair. "I know you had good reasons to go home. Not least of them being you missing your husband. But I am glad you are staying here, with…all of us."

She knew he meant not just Lady Mary and the court, but most of all their family.

 _You, Thomas and Edward are very dear to me. My father and brothers. I want to stay with you all, as long as you are still in the mortal realm._

 _After you are dead, I will never see you again._

Elsie joined them, and the three of them held each other.

"I do miss Tom," whispered Sybil. "Very much. But though I worry about him, it is different for us – different for the gods. Whatever time I am apart from him, it will make our joy that much greater when we are together again."

"He understands why you stay, better than anyone else," Elsie kissed her forehead. "I – _we_ are very grateful for your presence here."

"We both trust you to keep an eye on things," Charles agreed. "As much as you can."

"Two eyes, when I can spare them. There are ways I can keep watch here, too," Sybil stepped back and smiled at him, and at her mother. "The dogs are very helpful. I'll speak with the captain of the guards and some of the others at the hall, and tell them I think that Drini should be allowed to roam more freely. She already is, by the king's order. She never leaves Master George's side now. But I should be able to persuade some of the other servants not to shut her away, if she becomes aware of danger again, like the night Ethan died."

"Do that," Elsie encouraged her. "And if Nosi, Vyr, or Freya warn us again, we will do our best to see what, or who, has upset them. The next time I see Anna I'll ask her if Kap has been acting strangely."

Part of her wondered if her instincts were right – if the King of the Gods knew about her and Charles. She could not be certain of it unless _she_ returned to the Divine Realm, and that would not happen anytime soon. Her father's unpredictability would explain a lot of what was going on. Why the rains had not come as often as the previous summer, and even why the dogs sensed danger, without being able to detect what it was. It was well within her father's power to influence the weather. And to visit the mortal realm unseen by man or beast.

 _What if I am wrong? About Father knowing about us?_

 _You must be on your guard, now more than ever._

* * *

There was no fog the next morning as Sybil, Thomas, and Edward prepared to leave. The sky was still dark, holding its breath before the grey light of dawn.

Thomas stifled a yawn. He waved his torch in front of his face, trying to wake himself up. The air was warm and sticky.

 _We need rain. A good long soaking one._

He did not believe it would come anytime soon.

 _Maybe it'll come after the Harvest Festival, once autumn begins._

Charles handed him a pouch of seeds. "Plant them near Ethan's grave," he said. "In memory of him."

It was customary to plant flowers on graves, especially on those of people who had died who had no family near them.

"What are they?" Thomas asked.

"Daisies," his father said softly. "From the meadow."

Elsie hugged Thomas last, though they both knew she would embrace Sybil again before they all left. "Look after your sister," she said. "Please. For me."

"I will." In the flickering light from his torch, he frowned at her expression. There were lines on her forehead and beneath her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"I worry about my children," she told him. "I don't want there to be any more trouble for you all."

He knew what she meant but he smiled a little, wanting to put her more at ease. "You know me."

It worked. Her face relaxed as she laughed. "I do know you…try not to get into any _more_ trouble than usual. For Edward's sake, if not for mine!"

He kissed her on the cheek before letting her move past him. As expected, she hugged Sybil again.

"Maybe our friend will visit me soon," her daughter whispered in her ear. "I hope so."

"I hope so too."

 _It would be good for you to be with your husband again._

"In the meantime," Sybil took Elsie's hands, looking directly into her eyes. " _You_ be careful."

"Yes," echoed Thomas, standing with Edward halfway down the hill. "We wouldn't want you to get into trouble, either."

He grinned at his stepmother. Elsie forced herself to return it.

 _Oh my son, you do not know the sort of trouble I could find myself in._

 _Or am in already._

She stood looking down the hill long after they had disappeared on the road. It was her turn to watch the flocks, taking over from James, and Charles had gone back inside to sleep.

Her mind was full of what Thomas and Edward had seen, and what Sybil had said.

There were far too many reasons Elsie could guess as to why Tom had not come. He could have simply been detained because he was being kept busy, and not for any nefarious reason. The Queen, her stepmother, was notorious for using him to send messages.

 _It's Her fault he came to be known as Errand Boy!_

 _Well, Her fault and Marcas's fault._

She shook her head, thinking of the familiar faces in the divine halls. Her father, His jealous wife. Beryl, her husband Albert, and their kind son William. The wise goddess Athena. Victor. Uncle Peter, the God of the Sea. Marcas, and his wild sons.

She smiled ruefully.

 _It is little wonder that Sybil loves Charles and her mortal brothers._

 _They are far kinder than her natural 'father' and his spawn._

A sudden thought made her gasp.

 _I never told her about Derick being in Merton. What he did to those poor horses._

Perhaps it was for the best, she mused as the sun rose. Her daughter had enough to think about.

As did she.

* * *

Charles splashed water onto his face from the basin. Some of it damped the ends of his hair, and ran down his nose.

The candles on his altar burned low.

Behind him, the door creaked as it opened.

"Is the fire out?" He asked. Reaching for his tunic, he used it to pat his face and chest dry.

"Yes," answered Elsie, moving around the hearth. She checked the still-hot coals. It was always essential that every ember was snuffed out. Standing up straight, she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Except for your candles, of course."

"That is easily done," he murmured. He crossed the room in two strides and snuffed them out. The hut was plunged into darkness.

Elsie felt her chest rising and falling. The air was thick inside; but the heat of the day was not the sole reason why she could hear herself breathing.

The brief image she had had of her naked husband, his long arms and legs, water dripping from his nose, was enough to make her want to forget her control entirely.

 _Restraint._

 _I must keep it._

 _You must be mistress of yourself, you have no other choice-_

"Come to bed." Charles moved until he was right behind her. His breath tickled the back of her neck.

He was so close to her she could feel the heat of his body.

She shivered and clutched the bricks on the hearth.

 _What he does to me, no other being, mortal or immortal, can do. Could ever do._

 _It is as though he is divine and I am mortal._

She untied her belt and pulled off her tunic. Had it not been so warm, she would have kept her clothing on. It would make one more barrier between them.

Resting his hands on her hips, he rubbed his nose against her temple. "I am tired…but I'm not ready for sleep. Not just yet."

Her silence made him curious, and a little worried.

 _Is she going off me?_

"Are _you_ tired?" He asked, stepping back a little. Maybe she wanted space.

She probably was tired, he thought. She had been getting more sleep – but the heat took a lot out of him. He knew it affected her.

And she had a lot weighing on her mind, especially after their children's visit.

"I am a little tired, yes," she muttered. She sighed when they laid down, and she felt his familiar form beside her.

Her will and her heart were at war, and she did not know how long she would be able to continue holding firm.

Especially when he pressed his lips against the freckle beneath her ear, and ran his fingers into her hair.

"Oh," she breathed, as his gentle hands explored the contours of her body. "My man, _ohhh_ …" She turned when he rolled onto his back. Climbing on top of him, she kissed him until they both were gasping. It was something that she would always want. It felt impossible to deny them both pleasure.

His heart soared at the sounds she made, the way she hummed into his mouth. Even – especially - when she pinned his arms down and nipped his lip.

"Charles," she breathed, her fingers running through his damp hair, "I want you."

 _What greater sound is there, than the goddess – my_ _ **wife**_ _\- sighing my name?_

"I love y-you," he stuttered, losing his breath as their limbs intertwined in a dance they knew well. He lost it completely when she moaned.

 _Closer, my love_ , her heart sang. _Closer!_

It took a great deal of strength to find her restraint, even as she melted into him, the woman in her crying out her bliss.

Tears filled her eyes. It was not lack of love, understanding, or passion between them that made her heart ache. It was the knowledge that they could not fully share themselves – and that it was her fault.

 _If I took my pleasure as Eala, it would destroy him._

 _If I gave in to my own will and carried his child, it would destroy me, him…and likely many others._

She despised that it was fear that kept her restrained; fear of what might happen. Even as she lay in Charles's arms, sated for a time, doubts kept nagging her.

 _You are not CERTAIN of what might happen. You are not certain of what is happening now._

 _The King has sired many half-mortal children before – he might not care!_

Her father at times was very unpredictable.

Victor, on the other hand, was not.

"Elsie?" Charles murmured in her ear, making her shiver with desire all over again. He held her closer to his chest, her head beneath his chin. "What is it? Something's troubling you. I wish you would tell me."

He felt her tense, and though it was pitch black, he imagined her biting her lip.

He thought he knew what was bothering her.

"I love you," she whispered after a long time. She kissed him slowly, trailed her fingers along the stubble of his jawline. "I cannot put into words what you mean to me…I would give you the world, if it was in my power to give it."

Her voice was thick. His heart skipped a beat because he _knew_ she meant it.

"I don't want the world," he said, his hands sliding down her back. "Why would I want that, when I have you?"

"Flatterer…though I do love you for it. You speak like a mortal," she said, sounding more like herself. "And a man. There is always something else you want."

 _Ah. Now we come to it._

He was not sure if she would actually say it, but he was certain his instincts were right. He would never press her. "You're right," he murmured, rubbing her back. _Best to be honest._

Even though he was certain he had never prayed about having a child with her, she was Eala.

And his wife.

 _She knows what I think, no matter if I say anything or not._

"I don't see the sense in dwelling on what I do not have, when there is so much that I _do_ have," he continued. "What _we_ have. I have everything a man could want."

He almost believed it.

Elsie shifted in his arms. "Very wise. We do share a good life – family and close friends." He heard the smile in her voice. "Our dogs. You should have been a scholar, not a shepherd."

"Not a chance," he laughed under his breath. "Scholars have even less chance of meeting girls than shepherds do."

That did make her laugh out loud. "That would explain why you prayed to the Divine Lady so fervently when you were younger," she said. "You wanted to meet girls!"

He pulled her even closer, loving the sound of her laugh. "My piety, as well as my taste, has changed since then. I do still pray to the Goddess. And I must say, my worship of her now at times is much more…intimate."

"You incorrigible man," her breath was warm. There was a hint of sweetness on her lips, like new honey. "Speaking like that – it's a wonder Eala does not cast you aside."

"I think she will forgive me," he said sleepily.

Her lips brushed his again. "She will," she whispered.

His breathing slowed as he slipped into sleep. Elsie sighed, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart beneath her hand.

 _One day, it will stop._

 _And you will not remember me, or us, anymore._

 _You may say you are content, husband, but I know you better. You do not fool me._

She thought about all the uncertainty that surrounded them; all she did not know.

She thought about Jacob and Emma's nieces and nephew, and young Stephen learning more each day.

Thomas's bond with Master George. Sybil's quiet strength. Edward's gentleness.

Charles, and his love for her.

Her love for him.

 _What IS best for him?_

 _It may be that what is best for him and for our family is also what I want._

 _Once I make this choice, there is no looking back. No wondering whether I should have gone another way._

What she willed, was what happened.

No matter the consequences.


	78. The Willful Goddess

_The King of the Gods is respected, and feared, for many reasons. His power and his authority over most of the other gods make him a force unequaled in the Divine Realm._

 _His volatile temper is also well known._

 _At times in the past he has chastised one god for going against his will, while overlooking the behavior of another. The gods and goddesses have learned that kindling, or quelling, his wrath has as much to do with circumstance as openly defying him._

 _Few dare to cross him._

 _In her younger days, the King's daughter Eala was able to evade her father's anger while others were punished for similar offenses. She did this by cleverly understanding his moods, knowing when he was more apt to thunder his rage, and by charming both him and whoever else she had wronged._

 _The Queen fumed that the Goddess of Love was the greatest manipulator in the heavens and on the earth. She often berated the King for letting his daughter go without more than a scolding._

 _Others in the Divine Realm agreed._

 _It was thought that nothing Eala did would convince her father to subdue her – for, as many said, they were too much alike._

 _Nothing changed until the Divine Lady took the Bringer of War as her lover._

 _Warned by the Harvest Goddess that Marcas could not be trusted, Eala agreed with her oldest friend. And yet she was vain enough to believe that he would never look at another being as long as he was with her, and he likely never would again._

 _She was wrong._

 _Her humiliation before the court when his other lovers appeared intensified her rage. Never before in the King's Hall had two divine beings fought._

 _Marcas and Eala's frequent clashes afterward increased in intensity, in spite of - or really because of - their habit of bedding one another in between blazing rows._

 _Many of their friends exhorted both the god and goddess to end their union. The reasons varied, but both the Goddess of Love and the God of War were stubborn, and were little used to being told what to do._

 _Still, they did eventually part. But by then it was too late._

 _Wars were fought in the heavens and on the earth._

 _They did not cease until the birth of Harmony._

 _She brought balance to the Divine Realm, and continues to bring peace to the mortals to this day._

 _But in the aftermath of the chaos that Love and War had wrought, the King had had enough. It was then that he demanded that Eala be betrothed to the Master of Fire._

 _He did not anticipate that she would find the prospect so appalling, that she was willing to take mortal form and live among people unseen. Neither did he anticipate that she would at once see and love the shepherd Charles._

 _Eala herself did not anticipate this._

 _Living as a mortal woman, she understood that she had changed from the vain Goddess, seeking only her own pleasure and glory._

 _This was not to say that she had wholly changed._

 _Even appearing as the shepherdess Elsie, she was still the goddess._

 _Still stubborn._

 _And loath to listen to others' words._

 _Though in those days there was no one in whom she could confide. Her daughter was consumed with the day-to-day lives of the mortals, and worried about the absence of The Messenger God and the threat they could not see._

 _Elsie's husband, as much as she loved him, was a mortal._

 _She did not want to give him another burden to carry._

 _So it was that she relied on her own counsel, and no one else's._

 _The Messenger God, while she was still in the throes of her affair with Marcas, had wryly joked that she seemed determined to go against all good judgment, even that of her friends. She teased him later that it was fortunate that she_ _had_ _gone her own way. Else he would not have his wife._

 _Would going her own way bring such good fortune again?_

 _Time would tell._


	79. Innocent

**A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews! You all are awesome, with whipped cream and Oreos on top. A shout out to the guest reviewer who mentioned being "partial to Charles. With or without tunic." LOL. Aren't we all? ;)**

 **Another long one here, and no Chelsie (sorry). If I had to compare myself to any character here, it would be Kap. John and Anna's dog. You'll see why.**

 **A note about the scene at the hall when everyone's at dinner. I imagined them _reclining_ at table, not sitting in chairs. I hope that helps in terms of giving you a visual.**

 **This chapter is rated a strong T…I tried not to go into a great amount of detail in regards to events at the beginning. Warning for violence.**

 **Answers are coming. About where Tom is, motivations of certain mortal characters, and what choice Elsie made. I won't tease you all forever, I promise. Please review, if you have time. They do keep me going!**

* * *

The afternoon sun beat down upon the women and girls trudging up the hill to the king's hall. Sybil's basket felt heavier with every step, but she was not about to drop it.

 _All that work, and I am NOT doing the washing for Lady Mary again today, not if I can help it._

It was not so bad walking down to the river, but coming back up with a basket of wet clothing was one of her least favorite things.

 _Let it never be said again among the Divine that the mortals are lazy!_

Her mistress had taken to changing her tunics and dresses more frequently throughout the day. Which meant more clothing to scrub. Sybil doubted Mary thought about the extra work it meant for her.

"At least we can splash water on ourselves while we do the washing," puffed Madge, lugging her own basket of tunics that belonged to both Cora and Rosamund. "Some of Cook's girls complain the kitchens are hotter than the fires in Hades."

"As if they would know," muttered Sybil drily. "Though with Cook's temper, and how hot it's been, it's no wonder her girls would think themselves in the God of Death's realm."

"I hope I never go there after I die. I pray Hades will be merciful, and that he'll send me to Elysium instead," Madge said quietly.

"Me too," Sybil answered after a long moment. She shifted her cumbersome basket to her left hip. Sometimes she had to remind herself to watch her words around Madge. The girl was pious, but rather simple.

Still, she did not want the other servant to ever get suspicious.

 _I have seen the fires where Hades sends the damned, and I have seen the doors to Elysium. Though I have never entered there._

The memory made Sybil think both of Tom and of Daisy. Her chest felt tight.

 _Oh my love, where are you?_

 _My sister, I know where you are, but sometimes it gives me little comfort, though I know you are at peace. I miss you._

She was shaken from her musings by the cluster of guards swarming around the front gate.

"What's going on?" Madge asked a young man hurrying to join them. He was one of Henry of Shackleton's men.

"One of Carlisle's men will be flogged," he said. "There's talk that that lad Ethan, the one that died – they're saying he was _killed_."

"W- _what!?_ " cried Madge. She almost lost her grip on her basket, but caught it just in time.

"Killed? Who's saying this?" Sybil asked.

 _The word got out at last._

She was not sure if it was a good thing or not.

"Everyone," the man continued, his brown eyes wide. "And one of the Hexham guards told me the man being punished saw something, or someone-"

"As interesting as this all is," a sharp voice said, "It's nothing to do with us."

Sarah glared at Sybil and Madge, her hands on her hips. "Are you going to stand here while you've got work to do? Her Ladyship would not be pleased with your dawdling."

Madge gulped and hurried around the older woman towards the little door in the gate that led to the kitchens and the back stairs.

"If Ethan was killed," Sybil looked Sarah right in the eye, "Then it _does_ have to do with us. He was one of His Lordship's servants. Lady Mary would want to know. Thank you for taking my washing to dry."

She shoved her basket into Sarah's hands before the other servant could protest, and followed the Shackleton guard towards the chattering throng at the gate.

 _Never mind that Lady Mary already knows that Ethan was killed._

 **I** _want to see what's going on._

She slowed down a little at the edge of the crowd. Despite her true nature, she knew it would not be wise to fight her way through a crowd of men to have a better look. Fortunately, she caught Silas's eye. The young guard stood on a shelf-like wooden plank that ran along the outside of the gate. It was used mostly for repairing the gate, and, if the hall should be attacked, could be used as extra space for bowmen to place quivers of arrows.

Clambering up a pile of discarded logs and rotten wood, she gratefully took Silas's outstretched hand.

"I should have known you might want to have a look," the young man whispered, motioning for her to kneel on the plank. It meant she could just see over the sharpened logs at the top of the gate into the courtyard.

The open space was usually crowded, but a space had been cleared near the front wall. A man was kneeling, his hands bound to a short wooden stake, his back bare. From the way he was slumped, it looked as though he had already been beaten.

Sybil asked Silas who the bearded man was holding the whip; she vaguely remembered seeing his face.

"That's the captain of Carlisle's guards," whispered Silas. "He arrived here with the king earlier in the summer, but he's been gone most of the time since then. Carlisle and our king sent him to Merton to try and search for the brigands there."

"This man saw Ethan's murderer," the captain bellowed, pointing with his whip hand at the accused. "He _saw_ him lurking in the woods, but instead of telling our master, he kept silent. And because of his silence, the killer escaped!"

The crowd of guards and male servants chattered and murmured to themselves. Sybil caught sight of Master Henry, standing on the far end of the courtyard near the stairs. His arms were crossed. A scowl was visible.

"It seems unfair to blame the man," Sybil whispered. "He could have seen anyone in the woods – a hunter, or a woodcutter. How does the captain know who he saw?"

"I don't know," Silas shook his head. "But he seems certain of it."

The man bound to the stake raised his head. "I did nothing wrong," he pleaded. "Nothing! How was I to know harm would come to the king of Grantham's servant? I only saw the man in the woods!" His voice rose higher. "I am a faithful servant of Carlisle! My master knows I serve only him-"

The captain of the guard stepped forward and struck the bound man so hard Sybil almost felt the slap herself.

"You dare to call yourself a faithful servant!?" roared the captain. "You care nothing for justice, only to save yourself from punishment! You have no right to name yourself as a servant of Carlisle! The wise kings of Grantham and Hexham, the queen of Painswick, and Sir Henry would be ashamed to have you swear them allegiance!" He struck him again.

"You should go," Silas said suddenly to Sybil. "Now. You've seen enough…this is no place for a woman. I know you are curious, but your brothers would have _me_ flogged if they knew you were here."

There was no sign of Thomas or Edward anywhere in the crowd, though that did not surprise Sybil.

 _Thomas is with Master George. And Edward is hunting with Roland._

Silas grabbed Sybil's arm. "Go," he whispered. "The man will be punished, and that will be the end of it."

She shook off his hand. "No. I am staying. If my brothers are angry with you later, I'll tell them you tried to get me to leave."

Something told her it was far from the end.

 _This is all too strange._

 _I must see as much as I can._

A hush fell over the crowd, and the men stepped aside, clearing a path. The King of Carlisle walked through them. Even from a distance Sybil could see the grim determination on his face.

He gestured for his captain to stand beside him, several paces away from the bound man. "All here should know what happened," he began, his voice carrying across the silent courtyard. "This man, who I am ashamed to call my servant, witnessed a man lurking in the woods near where the lad Ethan was found. Instead of calling for help, or giving him chase, he dared to _speak_ to him!"

The bound man's shoulders shook. "Your Lordship, I did not know he had done anything wrong," he sobbed. "I only thought he was hungry, so I offered him food…you have always taught us to be generous with everyone, no matter if they are strangers or friends-"

Carlisle nodded at his captain, and the captain struck the man again. "He dared to speak to him," the foreign king continued as though nothing had happened, "And he gave him food. It was fortunate that my captain and another of my _faithful_ servants were nearby." He glared at the bound man. "They were not so trusting as this fool here. When they challenged the stranger, he fled. But he left something behind him."

He pulled two torn pieces of cloth from his tunic. They were both a dark color.

Sybil squinted. She was almost certain they were green.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Carlisle held up one piece of cloth. "The night that lad was killed, this piece was found among the rocks. When my captain and one of my guards chased the stranger yesterday, in his haste to get away, he tore his cloak again." He held up the other piece. " _That_ is how we know he was the same man. As well as seeing him in the place where the lad died. No one else has gone there – the place is accursed." His face wore a look of great disgust. "This man here is as cursed before the gods as the murderer. Why would _you_ linger in such a place?"

"I-I did not linger," the bound man stuttered. "I swear, Your Lordship, the captain had told me to search for herbs…I did not realize it was the place, I did not think I would meet hi-someone there!"

"You did," the king growled. Though his voice was low, it was so quiet Sybil could hear him clearly. "And fool that you were, you let him go. If not for you, we would have the man himself, to await the king of Grantham's justice. As it is, we only have you."

Something felt amiss to Sybil, like a cloud covering the sun. Hiding the truth.

And yet though she was in mortal form, she could read both the king of Carlisle and the bound man.

 _The accused is not lying; he was in the woods because he was ordered to be there._

 _But Carlisle is not lying, either. He IS angry because he believes justice was thwarted._

Carlisle gave the pieces of cloth to his captain, and took the whip from him. He snapped it, and the crack made Silas flinch.

"We should both go," he muttered hoarsely. "I-I saw a flogging once, and that was enough."

He did not move, however. Neither did Sybil.

The bound man groaned. "Your Lordship, _please_ ," he half-screamed. "I beg you, I meant no harm-"

"You meant none, and yet harm was done," the king of Carlisle said, his jaw clenched. "For your folly, and for your silence when you should have spoken-"

"I _did_ speak, ask the captain, I told him-"

Sybil turned to look at Carlisle's captain. In an instant, she knew his heart.

 _He ordered the bound man into the woods. He does not like him; he wanted to see him punished._

She gasped.

 _He_ _knew_ _the accused would meet someone there._

 _Someone_ _ **he**_ _knows._

If she had been in divine form she would have been able to see what, and who, the captain knew. As it was, the truth was muddled and hazy.

At the moment, though, she was moved by something else.

"That man is innocent," she said, rising further on her knees. "We have to stop the king, the punishment is undeserved-"

Silas grabbed her arm and yanked her down. "It's too late!"

"-for your silence," Carlisle continued, his eyes on the accused man, "You will be flogged forty times."

 _FORTY!?_

She struggled, but Silas kept his grip on her. "Sybil, stay still, I can't have someone seeing you…Master Henry-"

"-would want to _know_ ," she said through her teeth, her blue eyes wide. "He would not want a man getting flogged for no reason!"

"You don't know that-"

 _But I do._

The sound of the whip snapping across the man's back silenced both of them. The man screamed, louder with each blow, before he went quiet.

Sybil's eyes filled with tears.

The only time Carlisle slowed down was when he paused to wipe a speck of red off of his chin. His tunic was spattered with the same bright color.

The man's back was covered in blood.

He had been flogged twenty times already.

"Let's go," whispered Silas in Sybil's ear. They scrambled down the pile of logs and went through the smaller door. Other guards were breaking away from the crowd as the flogging went on. Sybil saw Reuben, the Hexham guard walking away, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth down.

By the stairs, Sybil could see through the doorway leading to the north side of the hall. That was where Madge and the others had gone to dry the washing.

Her belly twisted as she thought about the innocent man, bleeding into the dirt.

 _I wish I would have gone with Madge. I wish I had not seen that._

From the look on Silas's face, he was thinking the same thing. The young guard's face was pale.

 _One thing is for certain,_ she thought to herself. _The captain of Carlisle's guard is not to be trusted. At all._

* * *

Candles sputtered on the long table, and the torches flickered. Thomas risked a glance to his right towards the open window in the king's hall.

 _It's nice to have some air for once._

He was not hopeful a rainstorm would come with it.

He scanned the backs of the people of which he was responsible for serving: the Queen; Bertie, King of Hexham; Lady Mary, and Richard, King of Carlisle. On the other side of the table facing him were Lady Edith ( _the Queen of Hexham!_ ), Henry of Shackleton; Rosamund, Queen of Painswick; and the King.

Feeling eyes on him, he looked straight across the table and to the far wall, to where Master Henry stood. However, the master of the king's household was not looking at him. Thomas shifted his gaze further to the master's right. He had to fight to keep from smiling.

Edward gave him a cheeky wink. His mate then fought a yawn.

 _Stop yawning!_ Thomas mouthed, stifling his own.

Sybil passed in front of him with a tray of piping hot carp. "Both of you need to stop yawning," she murmured out of the corner of her mouth. "And stop making eyes at each other."

"We are _not_ making eyes at each other," he retorted when his sister passed by him again after serving. Seeing Bertie raise his cup, he followed behind Sybil to the far side of the room where the other trays and the wineskins were.

"Even a blind man could see it," she whispered. "You have to be more careful."

 _Not this again._ He uncorked a wineskin. "We _are_ being more careful. What, are you afraid Master Henry's going to flog us like Carlisle flogged his man today? Not bloody likely."

Giving her a sideways grin, he expected her to simply raise her eyebrows. Instead she went still, staring at a flickering torch on the wall.

"You shouldn't joke about it," she said. "It's not funny."

"I know it isn't," he nudged her back gently. "But you know Master Henry, and Roland, and the king for that matter, would never give a man forty lashes. Not for any reason."

He had heard about the flogging from Reuben after he had left Master George that afternoon. It was excessive, he thought. Especially since it sounded like at most the man had only seen someone who _might_ have been Ethan's murderer.

Carlisle had said nothing to Thomas while he had helped him dress before the evening meal. It was impossible to know what the man was thinking – if he regretted it, or not.

But Sybil seemed more affected by the whispers about the flogging than he had thought she would be. Her shoulders were slumped, and her eyes were tired and sad.

 _She is gentle,_ a voice inside him whispered. _And you promised her mother you'd look after her._

 _She never thinks of herself first – she always thinks of others, and helps to carry their burdens._

 _You should not be another burden to her._

It made him feel ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry I made a joke," Thomas said. "Try not to worry about me and Edward – we'll be more careful. I promise."

"Thank you," she placed more fresh bread on a tray. "You were with Master George when the flogging was going on. Did Drini seem upset? Did she bark, or anything?"

It seemed like a strange question, to ask about the dog. Thomas shook his head. "No. She got up once, and went to the entrance to his rooms with her ears up, but she only stood there a moment before going back to Master George-"

Behind them, they both heard Master Henry clear his throat. Sybil gave Thomas a small smile, and hurried back to the table with the bread.

Thomas knelt beside the table and filled the King of Hexham's cup. Lady Mary silently held hers out, and he replenished hers, careful not to lean too far over the table. Both she and Bertie nodded in thanks when he was done.

When he refilled the King of Carlisle's cup, the man did not acknowledge him at all. Though he was used to that by now.

Thomas had scarcely returned to his place along the wall when Bertie's steward entered the room. He motioned to him, and Thomas went over to him, wondering what he wanted. Both Master Henry and Robert, facing the door, watched him.

The steward, a balding man around Master Henry's age, held out a small scroll. "This just arrived for my king. An urgent message. It needs to be given to him at once."

Nodding, Thomas crossed immediately to the table. He knelt next to Bertie, handing him the scroll. "Your Lordship, this just arrived for you."

A good servant, Thomas knew, would keep his eyes down on the table. The business of a king, and a foreign one at that, was none of his concern.

But his eyes looked up. He was too far away to be able to read the short message in the flickering light of the candles, but he recognized the seal on the scroll, though it was broken.

 _It's from Staithes._

The very name of the place brought back memories so strong he was glad he was already kneeling.

 _Papa, frying fish on the beach. Elsie, putting leaves on my back to sooth my burned skin._

 _Daisy, playing with Freya in the waves._

 _Daisy…_

"Thomas?"

He took a deep breath and focused. Bertie was turned towards him, lines under his eyes.

"Yes, milord?"

"I need to speak with my steward." The young king got to his feet and made his way over to his steward. Thomas stood a discrete distance away from them.

They spoke in low voices for a moment. Then Bertie turned back to Thomas, his face grim. "Tell my father-in-law I need to speak with him. Now, please."

Thomas bowed, his mind whirling. It was obvious that it was not good news.

Master Henry gestured at him to follow Robert after he had relayed the message, so he obeyed. He felt like a docile horse. Going in whatever direction he was led. He followed the two kings into the empty main hall.

Torches flickered along the walls, throwing shadows everywhere.

Robert took the scroll from Bertie, looking rather irritated. "Both my wife and yours, as well as Mary, Rosamund, _and_ our other distinguished guests are mighty curious as to why we're out here and not at table. This had better be news of a war, at least."

"I almost wish it was," murmured Bertie. "It would be easier to say."

Robert's eyes widened, and his shoulders slumped as he read the scroll. "By the _gods_ ," he muttered, before meeting Bertie's eyes. " _Dead?_ But are they absolutely certain? It says they never found a body…"

"They found his tunic, and his cloak," Bertie tapped the papyrus. "And Martin writes that several fishermen saw him walking alone on the beach in the evening, as the tide was coming in. They thought nothing of it, until Martin and some of the others went looking for him the next morning. He is not the first to be lost there, apparently. The tide can be very strong."

"Beg pardon, milord," Thomas blurted out. "What happened?" He shifted from one foot to the other. For a brief instant he thought his curiosity had pushed him too far, but Robert peered at him intently.

"Did you know the old man who was blacksmith with John, in Downton?"

 _An old man?_ "Uh…yes," he said, trying to remember what he knew about John's apprentices. _Andy, of course. And Daniel. Toby? No, he died of the fever._

Then it hit him. What Anna had written to him, a few days before. "Old Joe, Master Burns? I did not know him well, milord, but he seemed friendly enough." _I ran over him once, and he didn't seem to mind._ "Anna's very fond of him. She was very sad when he left." He bowed a little in Bertie's direction. "Meaning no disrespect, milord. He must be a fine blacksmith, for you to send him to Hexham."

"He _was_ a fine blacksmith," Robert said softly. "Bertie's servant wrote that it appears he drowned in Staithes, before they all were supposed to sail home."

Thomas's mouth fell open. "That's terrible."

Bertie shook his head, his lips pressed together. "I should never have given him an offer…he could have stayed here among friends for the rest of his days, instead of dying alone. Far away from those he loved."

"You could never have known this would happen," Robert put a hand on Bertie's shoulder. "This was not your fault."

The memory of Ethan's face swam in front of Thomas, and he almost thought he would cry.

Bertie cleared his throat. Thomas had a sense that he was almost on the verge of tears himself. "Of course you're right," he said to his father-in-law. "I just feel awful for John and Anna. Mary told me not long ago the way Anna talked, it was like Master Burns was a second father to her. He was an excellent guide to John. That much was clear." He straightened up. "I'd like to go and tell them myself, but I wouldn't blame them if they were angry with me. And to send a messenger seems cruel…unless it was someone who knew Master Burns, as well as John and Anna."

The look he gave Thomas was pleading.

 _Oh no. NO. I am the LAST man you should send with bad news!_

" _I_ will go and tell them," Robert said suddenly. "In the morning. I didn't know the blacksmith, but John and I have known each other since we were young. Young _er_ ," he corrected, sounding more like his usual self. "No doubt they will want to honor his memory in some way. I can help them with that, if they want my help." He turned back towards the room they had left. "Let's go back to the table before Cora comes looking for me."

"Or Edith," Bertie walked beside Robert, with Thomas trailing behind them. "I would have waited and simply told her and all of you at once, but I was not expecting such news…and this is your kingdom. You need to hear of what happens to your people first."

"Master Burns was not from Grantham, but he made Downton his home," Robert said quietly. "That is enough to consider him ours."

The rest of the evening meal passed by in relative peace. Bertie made a passable excuse, and Robert chimed in about giving him advice. From the looks on their faces, the queen and the others were not convinced, but let the conversation move onto other things.

Thomas was glad when Master Henry said that he would wait on the family in their private rooms. He was tired, and his mind was restless.

Sleep did not come.

As he tossed and turned on his pallet, he could not stop thinking about Anna. Of the grief she would feel. It brought back a little of the anger he had once held against the gods.

 _Anna loved Old Joe like a father, even if she never said it. And now he's gone!_

 _WHY?_

 _Why did you do this to her? Why now?_

 _It's like…you cannot have her or anyone happy, without taking something else away._

He fumbled in the dark with his little bag of belongings, things he rarely had time to look at but wanted near him. When he heard the familiar click of the seashells against each other, and felt their smooth hardness, he took them and went outside the stifling room where the male servants slept. The night was still.

In the dim light of the waning moon, he looked at the seashells.

 _It was a happy time, in Staithes. Me and Papa wrestling in the sea, Elsie's hair bright as flame in the sun. Her laughing._

 _Daisy laughed at me on the beach when Ve tripped me, and I went sprawling into the water._

Hot tears rose to his eyes, and he let them spill over.

 _I'm forgetting what she looked like. What her voice sounded like._

 _Like I've forgotten what Mum looked like._

 _They both had dark hair._

He cried, wishing Daisy was there.

 _I love Edward, and Sybil, but she was my little sister._

Someone coughed close by. Thomas straightened up and sniffed, wiping the back of his hand across his face, and put the shells into the bag attached to his belt. He did not want someone seeing him cry, unless it was Edward.

But there was no one around. Above him, on the top of the wall, Thomas could see guards pacing back and forth.

He heard the cough again. The sound was enough for him to know that it was not coming from the room where he slept.

He skirted around a woodpile that was taller than him, and peered behind it. The space between the woodpile and the wall was narrow, but wide enough for someone to be there.

Squinting into the darkness, Thomas saw a man was slumped on his knees. His face was pressed against the wall. Thomas made his way to him and gently touched his shoulder.

 _Strange tunic. I've never felt cloth like that before._

It was warm, and slippery in spots, and rough in others.

"Are you all right?" Thomas whispered, bending over the man. He wondered if he should shout for help, but he didn't want to cause a panic.

The man groaned, and moved his head a little to the side. "W…water," he breathed out.

Thomas hurried to the room and found a water skin. Thankfully there was still some water inside it.

He set it down near the edge of the woodpile, and held out his hand by the man's face. "Here, let me help you up," he whispered. "Let's go where we can breathe." The air in between the woodpile and wall was stifling; the scent of wood was so strong Thomas felt like he'd eaten tree bark.

The man shook his head. "C-can't stand," he wheezed. "P…pl…please…"

A dog howled in the distance.

Holding the water skin back, Thomas tipped it gently, so as not to pour a gush of water into the man's face. It was well he had had so much practice at the king's table. A gentle stream of water fell into the man's mouth. When he nodded, Thomas held out his hand again.

"You're not well. You need to see the healer," he said firmly. "Come with me, I'll carry you to the hall if I have to-"

But the man shook his head. "I can't…"

"This is no place for a man in pain," Thomas whispered, urgently. It was clear to him that the man was hurt. He looked towards the end of the woodpile. _If I wake Edward, maybe both of us can carry him._

Groaning, the man leaned back on his knees. "Can't," he panted. "See?"

Then Thomas _did_ see.

The man's wrists were manacled together, and chained to the wall.

Suddenly Thomas knew that the dampness on his fingers was not water he'd spilled.

"By the _gods_ ," he muttered. "What happened to you? Who did this?" He looked up again. Two guards were talking together on the top of the wall. Their words could not be heard, but their voices could. Thomas thought one of them was Roland.

The man was silent.

Thomas yanked on the iron ring holding the man's chains with all his might. In the enclosed space it was hard to do. But it was not long before he knew he did not have the strength to free him. At least, not with his bare hands. The time did give him, however, an idea as to who the man was.

 _Forty lashes, I heard. FORTY._

He crouched down next to the man, breathing hard with exertion, feeling sweat beading on his face. "You were flogged. By the King of Carlisle."

The man nodded, slumping forward again. It seemed just by leaning back to show his chains and let Thomas help him, he'd spent all his strength.

"They say you saw the man who might have killed Ethan," Thomas gasped, remembering. "Who was he? What did he look like? I was there when Ethan was found-"

Shaking his head, the man murmured so low at first Thomas could not hear him. "-j-just a man. D-doesn't matter…"

"It bloody _does_ matter," Thomas insisted. "Ethan was a good servant. His murderer should be found!"

But the man said nothing further. He only groaned.

Sighing, Thomas pushed his hair out of his eyes. _It was not his fault. He didn't know…and he isn't from Downton, or Grantham either._ "You should have been brought inside," Thomas said, his belly roiling at the feel of the man's mutilated back. Anger mounted in him. It was wrong that the man may have let the murderer escape. But no one deserved punishment like that. Heat radiated from the man's back, and from his face. Thomas touched the man's cheek. "You're feverish."

"Water," the man begged. His voice was barely more than a breath.

"I'm going to get Master Henry. He wouldn't stand for this-"

"No," grunted the man in a hoarse voice. "Your master was there today, he saw me whipped. I heard him tell my king that the king of Grantham understood that this was a matter for _his_ household."

"That may be so, but you are in Robert's court now," Thomas gritted through his teeth, not caring he had called the king by his first name. "He would not like for any man under his roof to be whipped like that and left chained to the wall."

" _No,_ " the man repeated, clinking his chains together. "If your king finds out, my king will be furious. They'll k-," he coughed, and took a ragged breath. "I know you," he muttered softly. "You're Thomas. You have been serving Carlisle since the day he arrived. Tell me this – of what you have learned of him, do you think it's wise to cross him?"

Though Thomas had never seen Carlisle in a rage, or express anything much stronger than irritation, his instinct was screaming.

 _No._

It had not escaped him that the man had all but said he would be killed if anyone found out. The thought made him shiver.

"All he asks of his servants is obedience. I failed…give me water, and leave me," the man whispered. "You don't want to be found here."

There was nothing else to do but to give him what he asked. Thomas poured a little more water into his mouth. Then he ripped a strip of cloth from his tunic, wet it, and pressed it gently against the man's mutilated back. The man flinched and let out a low moan, but made no further sound.

Thomas kept glancing up, torn between wanting one of the guards above to see them, and at the same time, not wanting to be seen.

No one looked down.

He gave the man what he hoped was a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Someone will come by here in the morning," he whispered. "Not me, but a friend. I trust him with my life. He won't tell Master Henry, and I won't either."

 _Not yet._

* * *

The line between Sybil's eyes deepened until Thomas thought it would stay there. He knew his own face mirrored hers to a certain extent.

"You should have told me you saw him being flogged," he finally said. "Last night."

It was little wonder that she had been so upset, he thought.

"You have enough on your mind," she shifted the tunics in her arms. They both moved as a manservant came down the stairs. "Anyway, you had already heard about it." She tilted her head. "And you might be my brother, but what I tell you I _choose_ to tell you. And what I keep to myself is mine."

Thought he was still annoyed with her, he could not help grinning. "When you talk like that, you remind me of your mother."

"When you're angry, you look like your father."

"You're stubborn."

"So are you."

Sighing, Thomas rubbed his face. Already sweat was beading on his forehead, and it was not yet mid-morning. "How am I supposed to keep my promise to Mother, to look after you, when you _won't tell me_ things?"

"I just told you that I saw the man get flogged yesterday. You're sweet to look after me," she touched his arm. "But I try to look after you, too."

Edward moved through the mass of people streaming through the courtyard, smoke from the kitchens floating in the air above him. He shook his head before he had gotten to them.

"He's not there?" Thomas asked his mate, his heart sinking.

"No. There's dried blood on the ground and on the wall, but only the iron ring is left." He kissed Sybil on the cheek. "Roland needs me in the stables. I'll do my best to find out where he is. Maybe a guard saw something."

"Be careful," Sybil said, her blue eyes worried.

"He has to be somewhere here," whispered Thomas, watching Edward hurry off. "I'd wager he couldn't walk on his own. Someone had to have carried him. If I thought I could get away with asking Carlisle directly…"

"You know you can't," his sister muttered. "You had better go up. You need to keep his trust."

Thomas gave her a half-smile before going up the stairs. She watched him with a heavy heart.

 _You do not trust him either. And you did not see what I saw yesterday, or know what I know._

 _What a wicked game this all is._

She approached the doors to Lady Mary's rooms, and heard raised voices.

One of them was Edith's.

"-perfect for you! I don't know why you are being so stubborn about him…you don't know what you are doing. Bertie and I have heard many things about Carlisle, none of them good-"

"Perhaps not for Hexham, but Richard is not king of _your_ kingdom," Mary retorted. "I have to do what is best for Grantham. For George."

"Papa doesn't like Richard-"

"Papa doesn't _have_ to like him. Papa only has to respect him."

"Henry of Shackleton loves you," Edith broke in. "He would adore you, be a loving husband to you-"

"I'm tired of being adored." There was an edge to Mary's voice. "All these suitors fall over themselves to give me compliments-

"Henry doesn't-"

"-and Richard is a man who knows who I am. He says we would be a good match, and he doesn't quote poets waxing lyrical about the gifts from the Goddess of Love."

"You still love Matthew," Edith said quietly. "There is nothing wrong with that – part of me will always love Michael – but marrying the wrong man now will not help you. If you're doing this because you want to be a queen-"

 _She's not far off,_ Sybil thought. For all her good qualities, Mary hated to be outshone.

"You are being ridiculous. And you haven't heard a _word_ I've said. As usual," Mary snapped.

"You're jealous. Of me, of my happiness with Bertie. Of me being a queen." There was no malice in Edith's voice. Only truth. "If we were still girls in the court, I wouldn't care what you do, but I am _astonished_ you would do this."

What "this" was, Sybil thought she knew.

 _Carlisle._

"You say you're thinking of George," Edith said. "All right, tell me this: who would you rather see as your son's guardian?"

There was a long silence.

"Get out," Mary hissed. " _Now_."

Sybil stepped around the corner. Mary's brown eyes were blazing. Edith stood with her hands in fists, as though she expected her sister to strike her. Her shoulders dropped a little when she saw Sybil.

"You know my sister as well as anyone," she said, before either woman could interrupt. "Anna says you have good judgment. Tell me – who would be the better husband for her? Richard, King of Carlisle or Henry of Shackleton?"

Setting down the tunics in her arms, Sybil looked from Mary to Edith. "I think that is a decision for Lady Mary to make, and no one else." Her voice was soft, but it carried.

Mary smiled triumphantly, her hands on her hips. "It seems that unlike you, Edith, the servants trust _my_ judgment."

"I also think," Sybil continued, "That it would be wise for the king's eldest daughter to listen to her family, since they all care for her too."

It was Edith's turn to smile. "You understand me. Better than Mary does."

 _I do_ , thought Sybil. _You are both right, but you have quarreled so long it is difficult for either of you to give wisdom in a way that would be well received. Or to listen._

Mary turned away from both of them, looking out the window. A single strand of hair on the top of her head swayed in a little breeze.

"Edith, I would like to be alone," she said. "Please. Sybil, you may stay."

The Queen of Hexham hesitated, then picked up her skirts. "I…am sorry for saying you wanted to be a queen." She spoke haltingly, as if each word was being pulled from her mouth. "You have much to think of, and I know you love George dearly."

"Thank you," Mary murmured. "I am…sorry, too. I know you want me to be happy."

"Strangely enough, I do," Edith smiled. She gave Sybil a nod, then left.

Sybil approached Mary. The king's daughter reached for her hand and she took it.

"You should interrupt quarrels between my sister and I more often," Mary arched an eyebrow. "I can't remember the last time one ended between us so peacefully."

"It is not all my doing," Sybil squeezed her hand. "You both are not children anymore. But I am glad to help."

She was even gladder that Mary consented to physical touch. Without being in divine form, physically touching a mortal was the only way to know for certain what they were thinking and feeling.

 _Matthew._

 _Edith was right._

 _Mary still loves him._

It went deeper than the Queen of Hexham knew; even more than Mary knew herself.

Sybil felt the woman's inner turmoil over her choices – her doubts, and her uncertainties.

Most of all she felt an aching void where the love of Mary's life once was. The strength of it brought tears to Sybil's eyes.

 _He was the greater part of her heart. When he died, it nearly broke her. Now she lives for George._

A memory came rushing back to the Goddess of Peace. She had never forgotten it, but with the flogging of Carlisle's servant, her worry about Tom, and the uneasy atmosphere at court, she had set it aside.

It all came back.

 _Matthew brought out Mary's capacity to love. And her unselfishness._

* * *

 _In the sight of most of the divine, the petty squabble between two minor mortal kingdoms was nothing._

 _Not to all of them, however._

" _All wars matter to me," Athena said to her niece as they stood on a cliff, clouds floating by them. She took her helmet and strapped it on. "As they matter to you. I will go and guide the mortals who call on me with sincere hearts." She smiled, putting a hand on Harmony's shoulder. "And you will listen to the ones who send prayers to you."_

 _They embraced, and Athena flew off._

 _Harmony walked alone among the high peaks. Various voices called to her. Men going into battle, praying that she would end it soon. Mothers pleading for their sons to return._

 _A voice, one that she had not heard before, made its way to her ears._

" _Divine Peace," the young girl, nearly a woman, said. "Gentle Harmony, I cannot pretend that I am a devotee of yours…I'm not even sure that you're there. But if you are, and if I've ever done anything good…I beg you to keep him safe."_

 _ **I am here.**_

 _ **And I will keep him safe.**_

 _Harmony, like most of the gods, was partial to the prayers that were sent by those mortals who did not often do so._

 _Mary's plea was heartfelt._

 _ **She does not ask this for her own sake. Though she usually would.**_

 _ **She wants Matthew to live.**_

 _ **She loves him.**_

 _Mary's prayer was answered. Matthew returned from the war, and they were married soon after._

* * *

King's daughter and secret goddess sat on the floor.

"Richard wants to marry me," Mary told Sybil. "I can't pretend that his offer was romantic. Not that I expected flowery language from him, or adoration; that is how he is. When I said that tradition demanded that love be mentioned at least once, he said he could talk about doves cooing in the trees beneath the Midsummer moon, but that we were more than that. He said, 'We can build something worth having, you and I. If you'll let us.'"

 _Something worth having. Such as?_

Mary studied her lap. "I'm going to accept him." Glancing up, her brown eyes sought Sybil's. "Do you think I should?"

Gone was the self-assured woman from before.

It made Sybil a bit sad that Mary was only willing to be so vulnerable in front of a servant, rather than with her family.

 _This is her true self, or as close as she's letting anyone see._

"What about Henry? He wants to marry you, too," Sybil reminded her gently.

"He is good to look at, and he's much more charming than Richard," Mary nodded. "But if I married him, I fear it would be like a fire built with rain-soaked wood. It wouldn't last…he would chafe at court eventually, having nothing to do but hunt or ride. And I would resent him. The truth is," she took a breath, "you told me once that love can come a second time. That may be true for some people. Not for me."

In regards to Henry, Mary was not wrong.

 _You would resent Richard, too. In a different, and more destructive way._

Sybil wished she could be more open with Mary; she was sorry both that her status as a servant and as a goddess made it impossible.

"Is marrying the King of Carlisle the answer?" To Sybil, it most definitely was not. "I know that you feel you cannot make a decision based on love alone, but for most that is enough. Most are not your Ladyship."

A robin chirped as it flew from a tree to the window, then back out again.

"Have you ever loved someone more than anymore else in the world?" There was a wobble in Mary's voice.

"I did," murmured Sybil. The image of her beloved, his brilliant smile, filled her mind. "I do. I'll never love again like I love him. Never," she whispered.

 _Oh Tom, where are you?_

 _I need your counsel, your eyes to see…and your arms around me._

Mary forced a smile. "Well, there you are then. One day you'll meet someone else and you'll marry. Perhaps it'll be second best, but it doesn't mean you can't have a life."

 _She does not believe it herself._

"I think it does. For me." Sybil met her eyes. "Milady, I would only caution you not to be too hasty to accept him. You do not know the King of Carlisle well."

 _Or his servants._

Sybil wanted to tell Mary about Carlisle's captain, but she was well aware that she would need some sort of proof of the man's true nature. She hoped she would have time to find it.

"Hasty, no. I cannot take forever, though," Mary said. "He will not stay long past the Harvest Festival."

* * *

Dust rose from the path as Anna made her way towards Downton. She pulled her hood further up, to shield her face from the sun.

 _I promised John I wouldn't get too hot._

She smiled at Kap as the dog scampered a little ahead of her, sniffing, then trotted back to her.

"Maybe when we get to the river, you'll have a swim," she said. He cocked his head, then shook it, as if to say 'no'. It was so like a human reaction, she laughed. "You _can_ jump in the river if you like! I'll be quite safe for a moment or two, while you cool yourself off! I know that's what you'd like," she bent down and scratched his ears fondly. "And don't worry. John would never hear about it from me."

Ever since Master Joe had left, Kap had stayed by her side even more. John muttered often, half-joking, that if the dog was a man, he'd be worried about the closeness between the animal and his wife.

"If our child is born furry, with four legs, I'll know why," he'd said only that morning. He did grin while saying it.

"Silly beggar!" she'd giggled and swatted him on the arm. "Kap loves _you_ , too. He's protective of me. And of the baby."

She held the basket of food she was taking to John and the lads, glad both that it was not heavy, and that the village was not far off. The sun glinted off the river in front of her. Kap licked her hand, then raced off through the reeds down the riverbank. Anna grinned, seeing him leap into the water.

 _He'll enjoy that. And he'll meet me on the other side._

The path that led from her and John's house met the main road into Downton where the river curved. She could see the bridge straight ahead. There were a few people about, mostly people she knew.

A man knelt in the road, scrambling to pick up his spilled bundle. Anna set down her basket and hurried to help him. There were papyrus rolls, bottles of ink, and a tunic or two scattered about. She gathered most of it and carried it to the man, who struggled to tie together a mess of vines. He was young, perhaps a bit older than her. His dark green cloak was weather-stained and ripped along the edges.

He glanced up at her and smiled. "The gods were merciful and sent you to me," he took the papyrus rolls from her and put them back into his bundle. " _Thank_ you."

"You are welcome," she said, handing him his tunics. "Are you a rope-maker?"

"I am," he nodded at the vines. "I travel from place to place. I've was in Thirsk not long ago, and I've just come from Baldersby. This is Downton up ahead, isn't it?"

"It is," she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "My husband is the blacksmith there."

"Ah," he tied another knot in the rope around his vines and slung it over his shoulder. There was a faint mark on his cheek. She could not tell if it was a scar or a fading bruise. "Well, I hope to see the blacksmith's wife a time or two while I'm in Downton."

His words made her blush. "You shouldn't say such things. I must get on."

"Beauty should always be appreciated, and you shouldn't be ashamed of yours," he said lightly. She couldn't help but smile at him. It was wrong of him, really, to speak so boldly to a married woman. But he seemed nice.

Loud barking broke out to their left. From the riverbank, Kap streaked towards the stranger, flinging water everywhere. Anna just grabbed him in time.

"Kap! _NO_!" she cried, struggling to hold him back. He was soaking wet from the river, but all his attention was on the rope-maker. The man watched the woman and dog with a bemused smile.

"Protective, isn't he?"

"He certainly is," she panted with exertion. " _No_ , come on," she said to the dog. "…he wasn't hurting me, we were just talking…"

Kap bared his teeth, snarling and barking with all his might.

"I'll leave, so as not to be a bother," the man said, his voice raised. He gave Anna a little bow. "Good day, Mistress Blacksmith."

"Anna," she called after him.

"Mistress Anna," he repeated, crossing the bridge, looking back at her. "I'm Master Green."

Anna held on to Kap until Master Green had disappeared. "What is _wrong_ with you?" She huffed out an impatient sigh at the dog and picked up her basket again. "You see strange folks all the time. It's been a cycle of the moon since you were so upset. He's just one man."

The dog whined, but only trotted along at her heels while they made their way into Downton. By the time they got to the forge, he had calmed down.

John smiled broadly at the sight of his wife. He wiped his face, and called to Andy and Daniel to stop work.

"My darling," he gave Anna a long kiss that made her lose her breath. "You're a sight for sore eyes. We are _famished_."

"Oh, I see," she laughed, her hands clasped behind his neck. "You're happy to see the food, not me!"

"Can't we be happy for both reasons?" Andy asked through a mouthful of fig cake. He swallowed, turning red at the look on John's face. "N-not that _we're_ happy in the same way to see Mistress Anna…"

John and Anna laughed, as did Daniel. "You have to be careful when you talk like that, or Kap might come after you," John teased.

"Too true," Anna dug through the rest of the basket, bringing out fresh bread and fried fish. "I helped a man whose bundle spilled near the bridge. Kap almost attacked him."

"Really? Why?" John asked as they sat along the rock wall bordering the forge.

"I have no idea," confessed Anna. "We were just talking. He's a traveling rope-maker, just coming from Baldersby. Master Green, he said. He was perfectly nice."

John raised his eyebrows. "Nice? Should I be worried?"

"Not a bit," she smiled and rubbed his arm. "You're the only man I love. My husband, and the father of our child."

That melted him. "I love you," he whispered, laying a hand on the little bump on her belly and kissing her.

Andy laughed, and Daniel groaned. "They're kissing a _gain_ ," the tow-headed boy hissed to Andy. "How do you stand it, living in the same house as them?"

"They're not that bad," Andy drank from a water skin. "If you think they kiss a lot, you should see Master Charles and Mistress Elsie."

"Poor Stephen," muttered Daniel. "But at least he and Alfred have a different house to live in."

A horse whinnied nearby as they were finishing their meal. The lads gasped seeing its rider, and John pushed himself to his feet with his crutch.

"Milord! I did not expect to see you today!"

He shook hands with Robert. Behind him, Anna smoothed down her tunic, Andy wiped his mouth, and Daniel scurried to pull the upper part of his tunic back on.

"I'm sorry I did not write and tell you I was coming," the king said. He tried to smile, but failed. "Actually, I am glad that Anna is here, as well as your apprentices. I have news for you all."

He told them as gently as he could of Master Joe. John clenched his jaw tighter and tighter, Anna's eyes filled with tears, and Daniel's chin trembled.

"Do-do you mean he's _dead_ -"

Without a word, Andy turned and sprinted away behind a row of houses.

"Andy!" John yelled after him, his beart splintering in two. Anna gathered Daniel into her arms, the two weeping.

"Stay here," Robert put a hand on John's shoulder. "I will go after him. I'm so very sorry for the loss of your friend."

"He was our friend," John choked out. "And thank you, milord, for telling us."

"If you want to honor him, tell me when you will have the ceremony, and I will come. The King of Hexham will no doubt want to pay his respects."

"He was kind, to think of us," John wiped the corner of his eye. "As are you."

He turned to comfort his wife and Daniel. The king watched them for a moment, then followed after Andy.

The distant running figure was visible through the trees. Robert walked quickly at first, then slowed as he saw the temple of Eala looming before him.

The gate to the gardens was open. It screeched as he pushed it open. The sun beat down on wilted flowers and tired vines clinging to the walls.

Robert hesitated in the doorway to the temple. The soft sound of Andy crying echoed in the large room to the outside, but it was the sound of a familiar voice that held the king at bay.

"…not wrong to mourn your friend. He would not think less of you, I'm sure."

"He wouldn't. It's not that," Andy's voice cracked. "It's…it was Daisy, and now Master Joe…are _all_ my friends going to die? Why did this _happen?_ "

Robert stepped just inside the door. Andy sat on the bench along the wall, next to Violet. She saw her son, but said nothing to him.

"We do not know why the ones we love leave this life when they do," she held Andy's hand. "Only that we all must, sooner rather than later. Though our loved ones may be away from us, unseen, they never leave us." Her eyes were kind as she comforted the young man. "You loved them, and they loved you in return. Daisy loved you. As did Master Joe. You accepted their love. That is the gift of love…it must be received, as well as given. You still love them, don't you?"

Andy nodded, his eyes on the stone floor.

"They may be dead, but _they_ still love _you_ ," the priestess continued. "Death cannot stop love. It cannot force you to forget the ones you love."

"I won't forget them," Andy whispered brokenly. "Not ever."

"They won't ever forget you. I promise."

Robert slipped back outside silently, a lump in his throat. A sparrow flew from a high window in the temple to the statue of the Fire God. It cooed as the king paced in Eala's garden.

* * *

It was midday before Edward found Sybil, outside the kitchens. "Reuben told me the man's inside, in a room near the wine cellar," he said under his breath as he tore into a fresh loaf of bread. "By another of Carlisle's men."

"Not the captain?"

"No," Edward gave her a strange look. "I don't know why you don't like him. He is not a pleasant man, I grant you, but Roland said he's in a foul temper mostly because he went chasing after brigands in Merton for weeks, and he found hardly anyone. Roland says he's never seen a man so eager for a fight – and coming from him, that is saying something."

"It certainly is." Most captains of the guards were not peaceful by nature.

"I will ask Thomas if he will see how the man's doing later," Edward swallowed the last of his bread. "The king wanted him to go to the wine cellar, so he'll have a reason to be close by."

 _Good. So he will have no reason to be caught where he shouldn't be._

Thomas had better news just before the evening meal. "He was sitting up, and talking to the other man," he whispered as he and Sybil walked down the stairs together. "He didn't see me. He sounded all right, though. Better than last night."

"What were they talking about?" Sybil wondered if the man would be more willing to talk to a member of his own household. From the look Thomas gave her, the same thought had crossed his mind.

"Nothing much that I heard…one of their guards won an archery match against a Hexham guard. That's all. I'd already heard about it from Carlisle. He was pleased."

"I'm sure he was." _Men, and their competitions._ Sybil stopped him before they went further. The evening meal was going to begin soon. A boy was lighting the torches that lit the entrance to the hall. "Did Carlisle say anything to you today? About the flogging?"

Thomas ran a hand through his damp hair. "No," he sighed. "He did say that loyal servants were the mark of a good master. I've heard him say similar things before. So it could have been about something else."

"Maybe."

 _Or maybe not._

They went into the hall together.

* * *

Fire crackled in the hearth at John and Anna's house. John raked through it, making sure the flames were not too high, then banked the coals.

"Thank you," Anna said. She smiled at him when he sat back down, but it did not reach her eyes. Andy chewed his potato without saying a word. Kap lay flat on the floor, his paws towards the hearth. Even he seemed affected by the sadness in the house.

It was so quiet John could hear the flutter of the candle on the low table.

"Did his Lordship say anything to you?" he asked Andy finally. "Other than about tomorrow?"

"No," the lad said. "He said he'd arrange for a feast to be brought, so we could honor Master Joe without you having to worry about baking and such," he looked in Anna's direction.

"That's kind of him," she replied. They all lapsed into silence again.

There was a slight _pop_ , and a spark rose from the fire. Kap sprang to his feet and raced to the hearth, barking wildly.

"KAP!" John yelled, overturning his cup in surprise.

"What on _earth-_ " Anna reached for him in vain.

"I'll get him!" cried Andy, but when he grabbed for the dog, Kap danced out of his grasp and continued barking.

It took Andy and John a long time to get the dog settled between them. He kept whining and lunging at the hearth, barking as though he would never stop.

" _Shhhh_ , boy. Shhhhhh," Anna sat beside John, petting Kap. "You never bark at the fire, never." She looked at John. "Has he ever done this when he was at the forge?"

"No," John frowned, running his hand along Kap's back. "He's used to fires. Maybe if he was Vyr or Nosi, they would make him nervous, but he's around fire all the time."

"But they're around fires too," Andy spoke up. He glanced at the hearth fire. "Kap's sisters. Not as often, but on cold nights in the autumn we'd light fires. They never barked at them, even though they were pups." He scratched his chin. "The only time I ever saw a dog bark at a fire was at your wedding. Remme…Daisy's dog, you remember," he reminded John and Anna. "She went berserk. Barking like a fire was going to attack her."

"Kap didn't sound like it was going to attack him," Anna muttered. "He almost sounded _happy_. I could be wrong."

"You're not. I thought the same thing. Though I can't imagine why." John leaned over and rubbed Kap's ears again. "I wish you could talk to us. You'd tell us what you were thinking."

* * *

 _Smoke billowed from the forge fire as Victor smothered it._

 _ **A glimpse of my friends, that's all I wanted.**_

 _He had already looked in on Daniel, then Lily, Phyllis, and Joseph, before changing the fire to the home of Downton's blacksmith._

 _ **I forgot about Kap.**_

 _ **They cannot see me, but HE can.**_

 _ **The son of Freya.**_

 _It hurt Victor to see his friends' grief, and know they mourned because of him. And yet at the same time it soothed him to see them, even if it was just for a moment._

 _He sighed. His hammer hung resting at its place where he'd left it._

 _To pick it up again reminded him of who he was._

 _ **A part of me will always be Master Joe. Old Burns.**_

 _ **But I am first the Master Blacksmith.**_

 _ **The God of Fire.**_

 _He blew the bellows on the fire again, heating it up. He felt the strength in his arms. Strength that could break mountains._

 _If he chose to._

 _He set to work, smoothing the gold on Eala's belt. Then he held up the diamonds his automatons had chosen, seeing how they shone in the bright light of the dancing flames._

 _They were perfect._

 _As was his bride-to-be._

 _His heart warmed at the thought of her._

 _Fire broke out on the surface of his skin, and he hummed._

 _ **Maybe I can catch a glimpse of the Goddess of Love.**_

 _ **She does not always have a dog at her side.**_

 _When he went to look in the flames, however, the closest one he found to Eala was the hearth fire burning low at Jacob and Emma's house. The young couple, Charles's neighbors, were entirely consumed by another sort of fire._

 _Victor hastily smothered his fire again. He had no desire to watch them._

 _Or to think about Eala with the shepherd._

 _ **She will return to the Divine Realm.**_

 _ **Home.**_

 _ **And when she does, we will be wed.**_

 _There was nothing in the heavens or the earth that would change their fate._

* * *

 **A/N 2: Just because I don't want any of you to worry about Anna…I am NOT Fellowes. There is not going to be a repeat of Season 4 canon here.**


	80. The Spark

**A/N: First, thank you all for sticking with me up until now. I've said before that this is a long story, and it is. And it still has a very long way to go.**

 **This chapter is the hinge; everything before it was leading to this, and everything that happens after this chapter is defined by it.**

 **A large chunk of the latter half of this chapter was written on my old phone, in the wee hours of Christmas Eve, 2015. Over two years ago, before I published the prologue of this story. At the time, the only other parts of this story that had been written were the prologue and much of the first actual chapter (Chapter 2). This was always the plan – other characters intruded, certain plot points took a lot longer to get through; but this story was always going to hinge on this chapter.**

 **I considered calling it "The Hinge", but its title makes a lot more sense.**

 **I know there's a hundred other questions to be addressed. Answers are coming, I promise. But this is the heart of this story.**

 **M rating for this chapter – the explanation is Chelsie.**

 **I don't usually beg for reviews, but if you review any chapter of this fic, please choose this one.**

 **And please try not to kill me before I can update again...**

 **The music inspirations for this are "Enchantress", by Two Steps From Hell; "Nara", by E.S. Posthumus, and the Chainsmokers/Coldplay song referenced below.**

 **This chapter is dedicated to ChelsieSouloftheAbbey, who has been waiting a very long time for this one, and to Chelsietothenorthern, for her support. I love you two.**

* * *

 _ **I've been reading books of old**_

 _ **The legends and the myths**_

 _ **Achilles and his gold**_

 _ **Hercules and his gifts…**_

 _ **And clearly I don't see myself upon that list**_

 _ **But she said, "Where'd you wanna go?**_

 _ **How much you wanna risk?**_

 _ **I'm not looking for somebody**_

 _ **With some superhuman gifts**_

 _ **Some superhero**_

 _ **Some fairytale bliss**_

 _ **Just something I can turn to**_

 _ **Somebody I can kiss**_

 _ **I want something just like this…**_

 _ **Oh, I want something just like this…"**_

" _ **Something Just Like This", The Chainsmokers and Coldplay**_

* * *

The end of summer slipped by like water cupped in a parched man's hands.

Two nights before the Harvest Festival began, a chilly northern wind blew through Downton.

Elsie was glad.

Though the little rain the wind brought was not enough to soak the ground, it dampened the worst of the dust in the road and cleared the air. It lightened her heart.

 _Everything feels fresh. Clean._

 _It may be the start of autumn, but it is a new beginning._

Both she and Charles went to the first day of the festival, but they were not there to participate in the celebrations. They sold off part of the flock, and acquired three new rams and five ewes.

The market in Downton was bustling; the presence of the king's visitors at court meant that there were more visitors than even the year before.

Charles grumbled to Elsie that their children could not join them for any day of the festival.

"You would think that out of three days, they could be spared for _one_ ," he complained as they walked home that evening. He called to Ve, and the dog nipped at two ewes, keeping them together.

"I agree, but there's nothing to be done about it," Elsie shifted her crook to her left hand and nudged one of the rams back onto the road. She was glad when her husband reached for her right hand. She missed their children, too.

 _At least we can comfort each other._

She had had a glimpse of Sybil with Lady Mary once. The two women had been accompanied by Thomas - _and_ the King of Carlisle. Elsie had been curious to see the man of whom so much had been spoken. However, the regal appearance had occurred while she and Charles were haggling over the price of their animals, and so she had missed her chance to have a meaningful look at him.

Alfred's aunt Sarah had carried a message for her later, saying that Lady Mary would not be at the festival the last two days. By implication, that meant Sybil and Thomas would not be there, either.

They had also seen Edward, fleetingly. He had waved in the distance as he hurried through the crowded market, then he had cupped his hands around his mouth.

"The others send their love! And Thomas said to remind you that he's still your favorite!"

"I think that was for you," Charles had smiled in Elsie's direction.

She had no doubt it had been.

She had more doubts about the number of people in Downton, and the potential for something going wrong. She had never forgotten her first Midsummer there – both the wonderful memories, and the ones she wished she could forget.

She missed Beryl, too. The image of the Harvest Goddess was everywhere.

While Elsie and Charles had been in the village, the shepherdess had felt as though there were eyes on her. The cooler air meant that she once again wore her blue cloak, and she had kept her hood up.

Other than several men staring at her slack-jawed as she helped Charles herd their animals, there had been no one that seriously raised her suspicions. Not even among the foreign servants and guards from Carlisle, Hexham, Painswick, and Shackleton.

But she had glanced around more than once, certain that someone was watching her.

Someone who knew how to hide.

Not long after they had arrived, she had sent Ve with Phyllis, under the pretense that their dog was hungry. The wheelwright's wife had gladly shared roasted lamb with their four-legged friend.

Elsie had later realized her mistake as she wrestled a ewe into one of the pens.

 _Ve is mortal._

 _He can perceive when there is danger, but he cannot see as much as Freya._

 _Or as much as their children._

Of course, that morning Charles had been working to separate the flocks into those animals that would be kept and those that they had decided to sell. To bring a dog with them was natural; Ve had been her husband's choice.

* * *

Neither she nor Charles went to the Festival on its second day. They had agreed to watch the flocks with Stephen, to let Alfred and Jimmy attend the festivities. Jimmy would be leaving soon, and his cousin wanted to spend as much time as possible with him that did _not_ involve watching sheep.

That day was windy, and by sundown the ash tree in the meadow as well as many of the surrounding trees had lost their leaves.

Elsie had watched the flocks in the morning. Charles had slept much of the day, but was glad to have a quiet meal with his wife before going out to take the evening watch.

Leaving her was difficult. The tip of her tongue slipped into his mouth as they kissed, making him moan. He gasped, clinging to her tighter, but in the end she pulled away with a sigh. Her face was flushed.

"The poor boy's been out there since midday all by himself," she swallowed and smoothed an imaginary wrinkle on Charles's tunic. "You must go." She looked down, then away, trying and failing to hide her disappointment.

Charles made his way up the hill, his mind full of the darkness in Elsie's eyes. How she had run her hands down his back, squeezing his bum. The feel of her breasts against his chest-

He groaned, rubbing his face.

 _WHY did I sleep so long this afternoon!?_

 _We could have had time to…_

He almost stumbled over Stephen in the long shadows of the ash tree. The lad was trying to start a fire.

"What are you _do_ ing!?" The shepherd bellowed, his heart almost stopping. He stamped on the smoldering grass and dead leaves, glad to be wearing his sandals, and looked around frantically for any sign of a spark elsewhere.

Stephen got up from his crouch. His blue eyes were wide. "I-I was cold, Master…I thought you'd want a fire, to warm yourself."

It _was_ chilly, in the fast-fading light of day. Especially considering how warm it had been. Before the wind had blown warmth and what was left of summer away.

Sighing, Charles ran a hand through his hair. "That was thoughtful of you." He took a deep breath. "But we can't risk a fire out here. Not until we get a little rain."

For once his fears of a fire had nothing to do with the Fire God. It had simply been too dry for too long. The sheep had eaten nearly all the green grass in sight, except for some close by the stream. What was left in the meadow and on much of the hills was dry stubble, ready to burn with the slightest spark.

"Do you have something to eat for your evening meal?" Charles asked the boy. Stephen nodded, holding up a bundle.

"Emma brought this to me earlier. I like cheese," he said shyly.

"I do too," Charles gave him a half-smile. "That was kind of her. Go on, get some rest. James and Alfred _should_ be back by moonrise. But if they're not, you, me, and the mistress will have to watch the flocks tomorrow, too."

He sent the lad home. Nosi went trotting after him, but she came back to Charles after a while. She laid down at his feet. He was glad she did; it warmed him a little. He huddled beneath the bare ash tree, his cloak wrapped around him, as the sun set.

* * *

Elsie swept the house clean of dust, as much as she could. She beat the broom against the floor with more energy than was necessary. Huffing out a frustrated sigh, she leaned the broom against the wall and went outside.

A single star gleamed in the deep blue light above the sunset. Elsie pulled up a bucket of water, and splashed her face. Then she sat on the lip of the well and laughed ruefully.

 _I was so eager for tonight that I forgot Charles had to take the watch!_

 _I did not make leaving easy for him._

 _There is still tomorrow._

 _And the day after, if it comes to that._

 _It won't._

She had counted the days, watching the signs in her own body. Her impatience made her wonder if this was how mortal women felt.

 _The difference is, they pray to Me._

 _Asking that I bless them with children._

Setting the full bucket down in the house, she then went to the altar where her husband often prayed. She laid the cutting of a rose before his figurine of Eala. It was half-hidden in the dim light. She felt sure Charles would not see it – and if he did, he would think _he_ had left it there.

Elsie had cut the rose the day before, when they had been in the village.

She would obey her own rituals, even if she already knew the result.

 _Every woman has to abide by them. So shall I_.

She knelt before the altar, studying the figurines of Herself and Harmony. Her eyes shifted to the carvings of Charles's deceased relatives.

The little carving of Daisy felt light in her hand. It was like the other carvings Charles had done, only with more detail. Unlike the ornate idols of the gods, Charles never prayed to his daughter or his other departed loved ones. They were there as a remembrance.

Elsie sniffed. She ran her finger along the face of the carving, and smiled at the loaf of bread in Daisy's hands.

 _I miss you, my dear girl._

 _I will always remember you. Even though you no longer remember me._

Though she remembered Daisy with perfect clarity – her dimpled smile, and her voice, it grieved the goddess that she would never see or hear her girl again.

 _And if I somehow did?_

 _She would not know me._

It was well, the goddess thought, that it was impossible that she would never see Daisy again. The pain of the girl not knowing her would be greater than she could imagine.

 _She will always remember her father, and her brothers._

 _Not me or her sister._

 _Strange_ , Elsie mused as she put out the smoking embers of the hearth fire. _Mortals remember each other, even after death._

 _There is no reason for them to remember the gods after they are dead._

After the room was in darkness, she laid down and tried to sleep. It did not come easily. And not because thoughts of Daisy followed her.

Charles's scent was all around her. She had washed the blanket earlier, hoping to remove the smell of him, but it had done little good.

Desire for her husband coursed through her.

Nothing would quench it, she knew, except for them to make love.

 _I will always want him._

 _Not just for pleasure, but because I love him._

 _He is my heart, the one who brings out the woman in me._

 _When we are together, we are complete._

Her breath escaped her in gasps, and she writhed on the sheepskin, turning over and pressing her face into it.

It was not the first time she had struggled with containing herself. She thought it likely her desire was stronger now both because of the timing of things, but mostly out of anticipation of what she _knew_ would happen.

 _I want him. Now. My husband, my mate, my lover._

 _I will go out to the meadow and-_

 _NO._

 _Someone, one of the Divine, would see._

 _Our love must be hidden, a gift for us alone._

The corners of her lips turned up.

 _In Staithes we were reckless. Standing in the sea, the open sky above. His mouth on me._

She moaned, the sound loud in the quiet.

 _Me, what he does to me…_

A soft voice came to her in the darkness. She sat bolt upright, listening intently.

It was a prayer.

From someone who had seldom prayed to her before.

But someone who she knew very well.

 _My wayward son._

She could _see_ Thomas, dimly, when she closed her eyes.

He had not lit candles before an altar, though there was one in the hall for the servants' use. No, he sat alone on the hill above the river as the moon rose and stars glittered in the night sky.

 _Eala, Goddess of Love…thank you for Edward. He's all I could ever want. Help me be the best man I can for him._

 _I know I haven't prayed to you like I should. And when I did, I shouted…I don't even know if you're listening. If I were you I wouldn't listen to me. Well, you're NOT me…_ "shut up and get on with it," he muttered to himself before sighing, shaking his head, and forcing himself to concentrate.

 _There's only one thing I ask. Papa's never said anything to me. But he and Mother want a child, I know they do. I can see it._

 _They would be so happy if they had a child together. I know Daisy would've loved that, and I think Sybil would. I know Edward would._

 _I would, too._

 _Papa is a great father. He loves me, I know, but I'm wasted on him. He deserves to have another child who won't cause him so much trouble._

 _At least not as much trouble as I've caused him._

 _Well, maybe a_ _ **little**_ _trouble._ He grinned.

 _And Mother…Sybil is the kindest person I've ever met. Her mum was wonderful, raising her so well without her father around. Elsie deserves to have a child with a man who loves her._

 _She told me she can't have children. Maybe she can't. It isn't fair, not with how much she and Papa love each other. YOU could change that. Anna says you're the reason she and John are expecting a child…while I'm sure she and John had something to do with it too, I believe her._

 _It seems mad even to me that I'm asking for this. Especially now, with me and Edward and Sybil all grown, and not knowing what's going to happen with Lady Mary. Papa's shaky hands._

 _But if I'm honest, and I'm trying to be…I don't want to be Papa's only surviving child. I don't want to be the last person in the family._

 _A family isn't always just formed by blood, I know._

 _It starts with love._

 _You._

 _Mum used to say, when two people love each other - that makes a family._

 _If the stories are true, you've seen everyone who's ever lived. Everyone who's ever loved. But I'm not sure there's ever been two people who love each other more than Papa and Mother._

 _They're right softies with Nosi. A child would be the apple of their eye._

 _Someone who has Papa's wisdom and patience, with Mother's strength and kindness._

 _Someone who ties us together. Through love and blood._

 _Please, Divine Lady._

 _Please give them a child._

 _Please._

Elsie pressed a hand to her mouth, overcome.

 _Had I not already made the choice, his prayer would have convinced me._

She knew part of Thomas still doubted Her willingness to do any good in his life – to be on his side, as he would say. But his prayer in spite of his doubts, his opening his heart to Her, Eala, was everything.

 _I am the Goddess._

 _I give life, love, and beauty to mortals._

 _How much more will I give to you, Thomas?_

 _You think you don't deserve it. Or that anything I give will be taken away._

 _It is not true._

 _Not everything can be taken away._

 _There are some gifts you will always have._

* * *

A cool breeze blew through the window, but the sunshine more than made up for it. Every corner of the hut seemed to glow in the morning light.

Elsie looked over the baking bread. Not even seeing a few more grey hairs in her reflection dampened her spirits. She whistled to herself, and leaned over, scratching Nosi's ears as the dog sniffed at her feet.

"The only thing that would make this day better," she said to Nosi, "would be if James and Alfred had come back last night like they promised, so Charles could be here too."

She felt both calm and excited, anticipating the day. Her husband would have to sleep, and she would have to take the watch at midday (James being far too sleepy to be trusted to watch longer), but after…

Her belly flipped, and she let out a laugh.

 _This feels like the night we made our vows, when I waited for Charles to come to me._

There was a light tap on the door, then Stephen came in. He left the door open.

"Good morning, Mistress," he grinned, his dimples showing. "I asked the master if he wanted me to take the watch this morning, but he said I should go to Downton like I'd planned."

"As well you should," she said to the boy. "You should not have to stay here just because the other lads came home late!"

 _They knew better than that._

He shuffled his feet. "That's what the master said. Alfred said they'd been playing games on the riverbank until the third watch. He looked tired. So did Jimmy. He kept yawning, even though the master was yelling at him."

"James will stay awake until midday, or risk being sent away at once." She hoped Charles was not _too_ angry. It had been a letdown when she'd awoken at dawn, still alone.

 _It can't be helped._

"I hope he doesn't fall asleep," Stephen's blue eyes were wide. "I-I like Jimmy, even though he and Alfred drank too much."

" _I_ like James as well." _Vain and silly as he is._ "But he needs to learn to think of others and not just himself." She had little doubt that it was more his fault that he and Alfred had come home so late. She gingerly pulled the hot bread out of the hearth fire. "Would you like some?"

"Yes, please." Stephen attacked the bread with all the hunger of a growing boy who had only seen nine autumns. Elsie watched him for a moment, her hands on her hips.

 _Children grow so fast._

The acrid scent of burning cheese hit her in the face. She cursed, reaching for it.

 _I NEVER can make cheese without burning it-_

"You did not hear me say that word," she muttered to Stephen.

"What word?" He asked, grinning. She tsked under her breath at his expression, fighting off a smile of her own.

"Cheeky lad. I suppose your gran never talks like that."

"Oh!" He cried, swallowing the last of his bread. "I almost forgot. Did you want to walk to Downton with me? I'm meeting my gran, but the master thought you'd like to go and see some of the fun. Before midday, at least. It's the last day of the festival."

She moved the half-charred cheese from the hearth to a bowl, turning away from him.

"That's kind of you. Yes, I will," she wiped her hands on her skirt, thinking that maybe she would see some of her friends.

"I'll join you," a deep voice she knew well rumbled. "Later, of course, after I've rested a bit."

Her heart stuttered as she looked over her shoulder at Charles. He leaned in the doorway, his eyes twinkling at her. There was stubble on his chin, and shadows beneath his eyes, but he was the handsomest being she had ever seen.

 _Always._

She had to grip the hearth to keep from running her fingers through his wind-blown hair and plundering his mouth with a kiss.

"Right you are," a brilliant smile bloomed across her face. "I will see you in the village."

* * *

The Harvest Festival was a bright dance of color, despite the lack of rain. Elsie wandered for a while with Stephen and his grandmother Talitha, before she saw Phyllis and Lily near the temple. The younger woman shared the news that she was expecting another child.

Even if Elsie had not already known it, she could have guessed. Phyllis had a smile that kept hovering on her lips.

"Lily's still so young," the wheelwright's wife said, kissing her daughter. "I…did not think I would carry another child so soon."

"Sometimes that is the way of things. What does Master Joseph think?" asked Elsie, running her finger along Lily's cheek. The baby smiled and grabbed her fingers.

"He's thrilled. Shocked. Worried," Phyllis confessed. "He wants to get a dog, to look after us when he's not home. I think he's jealous of John. Anna never goes anywhere without Kap."

They made their way to the riverbank. There were no games being played, or wagers being shouted by men, but several boys were pelting each other with rotten apples. Their shrieking laughter was carried on the wind.

Near where the competition was held at Midsummer, another group of younger children played tag. They were carefully watched by a cluster of women.

Among them were Margie, the farmer Tim's wife, and Cora.

"Milady," Elsie curtsied to the queen. Phyllis did the same. "It is an honor to see you here."

"Thank you. The court will not be here in Downton much longer, and I wanted my grandchildren to enjoy themselves. They don't always have the chance to play with other children," the queen smiled as Marigold ran around her, chasing another little girl. George jumped onto the stump of a tree and leaped off again, shouting. His grandmother flinched, but then let out a shaky laugh when she saw him roll on the grass, unhurt. Drini rolled over next to him.

"He must be allowed to play like any other boy," Cora said in a low voice. "Though if he fell, I doubt my daughter or the king would forgive me. Or Thomas for that matter," she smiled. "He is protective of my grandson. It's very sweet."

"Indeed, milady," Elsie's eyes followed George, her eyes soft.

Charles found his wife halfway through the morning. He saw her from a distance, weaving flowers through Marigold's curly hair.

 _She is so natural with them._

"Very pretty flowers, for a pretty girl," he bowed his head towards Edith's daughter.

Marigold stared up at him. "You have a big nose."

Elsie laughed so hard tears came to her eyes. "Oh my dear, how right you are," she kissed the little girl's cheek.

Grinning, Charles sat down on the grass. "I _do_ have a big nose. But what else do I have?" He held up his hands, showing Marigold that they were empty. Then he closed his large fists and opened them again – showing her acorns in between his fingers.

"Oooh," she squealed. Her cousin and several other children joined her, and before long they all sat enthralled while Charles told them stories about the Harvest Goddess. He dandled Lily on his knee. The baby seemed quite content there, though Elsie noticed she kept touching his face.

"Some of our dearest friends have beards," Phyllis explained. "She probably wonders why your husband doesn't."

"He says beards are too scratchy," Elsie said. She was very glad Charles kept his face smooth, for more than one reason. "But Lily must like them. _Pulling_ them, more like."

"True," laughed Phyllis, a spark of sadness in her dark eyes. "Joseph has said she's already wrapped around his finger, and he doesn't need anything else for her to grab."

After telling stories, Charles taught some of the children how to skip rocks on the river. He wrapped his big hand around George's, showing him how to throw a flat stone.

"I see where Thomas learned to charm children," murmured Cora to Elsie. "From his father. Your husband has a way with them, too. He always has." She pursed her lips, as if she was about to speak again, but she did not.

She did not have to.

Elsie was aware of her thoughts.

 _It was long ago, but she still remembers._

"He certainly does," the shepherdess agreed. She walked home at midday to take the watch, her heart full.

* * *

It was nearly fully dark as Charles and Elsie finished their evening meal. She sighed, then smiled at the worried look on his face in the glimmering candlelight.

"The sunset comes earlier, now that it's autumn. Again," she squeezed his hand. She began to gather their empty bowls, but he stopped her.

"Let me," he picked them up. "You had the watch all afternoon while I slept. The least I could do is to fry the fish and to clean after the meal." His lips brushed the top of her head. "You've been very quiet since you came back from the meadow."

She was glad he had his back to her. "It was all the noise this morning. I needed the quiet."

She had used the same excuse to send Nosi out to the meadow with Alfred.

"You seemed to enjoy playing with the children." Charles scraped the fish bones from the bowls into a little bucket to take outside. His heart ached, remembering the gentle way she braided Marigold's hair.

"I did enjoy it." She swept the floor while he took the bucket outside.

When he came back in, he saw she had already pulled the blanket across the room, hiding the back part of their home. It surprised him a little that she would be getting ready to sleep so soon, as she had not seemed very tired.

He found himself watching her silhouette as she unrolled the sheepskin on the other side of the blanket, the shadows thrown by the still-burning hearth fire outlining the curves of her body.

She turned a little, her profile visible to him. He could see her looking down, her hands untying her belt. The way her arms stretched over her head as she pulled her tunic off. Her fingers running themselves through her hair. She hummed under her breath.

He swallowed, his manhood growing hard.

 _Oh._

 _It's not sleep she wants._

Mesmerized, he saw her turn in his direction.

"Did you get water from the well?"

It was a perfectly normal question, but he found it difficult to answer her. Her voice was low, deep. Without seeing her face, he knew her eyes were dark.

"Y-yes," he stuttered. He blinked, then poured water over the red coals in the hearth to put them out. His hands shook. It was out of desire, rather than his malady. Some of the water splashed harmlessly against the warm bricks of the hearth rather than on the coals. A few tiny embers remained.

The room was plunged into darkness.

On the other side of the room, Elsie lay sideways on the sheepskin. Her chest rose and fell as her husband joined her. He shed his clothing much more quickly than she had.

Charles pulled the blanket over them, holding her close. His knee nudged between hers.

Bare skin against bare skin, they kissed slowly. She hummed when his lips touched hers. She knew she had never been so cherished.

She felt at peace in his arms; it was like nothing else.

He reveled in the way she ran her fingers up his neck and into his curly hair. The way she moaned when he opened his mouth to taste her fully. Caressed his tongue with her own.

It would never cease to amaze him that this woman desired him.

 _Me._

He knew he had been the one who asked her to marry him, but he knew his wife had chosen him as much as he had chosen her. In that way they were equal.

Elsie broke away to touch his temple, his wiry eyebrows. His eyes were as clear as the full moon that was rising, its pale light floating through the window.

 _He can see me the way I see him. This is how I am. My true self._

 _I have never been this way before._

True, she did not look as she did at home.

Was where she came from "home" anymore?

Her heart knew the answer.

 _This_ was her home, in a way the divine palaces and halls in all their perfection could never be.

Here she was home.

Here, in this simple hut, in the arms of a shepherd.

Her friend. Her mate. Her lover. Her husband.

He was hers, and she was his, and neither his mortality nor her divinity mattered.

"What is it?" Charles asked at the look on Elsie's face, his thumb gliding over her lower lip. He raised himself a little, holding himself above her. One of her arms was flung above her head. Her legs tangled in his, her foot slowly caressing his calf.

She traced her finger down his cheek, trying to find words to express her feelings.

"No one," she whispered, "has ever seen me the way you do."

There was a tenderness, a certain vulnerability in her eyes. He had seen it before, throughout their marriage, but it made him love her all the more. He cupped her face in his hands.

 _The Goddess of Love…she gives love. More than anyone ever has, or ever will._

His love was a tiny thing in comparison, he knew. But it was all he could give.

"No one has ever loved you the way I do," he replied earnestly. "I love you, Elsie. I've never loved anyone before like I love you, and I never will again. Never," his voice trembled. "Even after I've forgotten us, I will remember loving my wife." He stroked her face with the back of his fingers. The gesture brought tears to her eyes.

 _Remember._

 _He loves me._ _ **He loves me.**_

 _Every part of me._

She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what he said was true. Even more than he knew. No one, divine or mortal, had ever loved her with the sincerity of Charles. It rang through his body with every beat of his heart.

Overwhelmed, she took a breath, a gasping sob. She raised her head and gave him a fervent kiss. Her lips lingered against his, the breaths that sighed from his mouth. "Oh my love," she murmured, her voice breaking with the intensity of her feeling, "I love you, Charles. I love you," she repeated. His mouth left hers and traveled down her neck, his warm breath on the curve of her throat, the swell of her breasts. "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

She would not stop saying it.

Every kiss, every touch proclaimed his love.

When speech failed her, she felt the low rumble of his voice over her heart. "I love you," he breathed. It felt as though the words seeped through her skin, into the fiber of her being.

And saying it was not enough for her. She wanted to show him.

 _I want to_ _give_ _him love as well._

He whispered his adoration for her, until his attention to her pleasure rendered him equally speechless. Her skin glowed in the shadowy moonlight that flickered through the window. Illumined his face as he pressed slow kisses to her belly, her abdomen, her hips, the inside of her thighs.

Gods could whisper, and their voices be heard across the seven seas. But none had ever made use of their mouths the way Charles did.

Not with her.

She cried out, panting, yearning for more, her fingers pulling his black and grey curls.

He did not stop, his strong hands holding her, until she shuddered, her voice ringing. He dared to look up, a triumphant gleam in his eye. A bold grin on his face. He pressed another kiss on her belly, his tongue swirling on her sweet skin.

Elsie gasped, arching her back. Every inch of her hummed. With one searing glance at him, she beckoned him forward. Charles rose onto his knees before covering her with his body once again.

His hand slid unseen over the sheepskin beneath them and found hers. Their palms pressed together, their fingers interlaced. The only sounds were their soft sighs and breathless pleas, followed by gasping pants and sudden cries.

He felt closer to her than he ever was before. He kissed her lips, her eyes. The tip of her nose. Lying facing each other, he stroked his fingers down her side from her breasts to her hip as her heartbeat slowed.

Her hunger was not sated. At all. She fingered the hair on his chest and caressed his face. "Love me," she breathed. It was a plea, not a demand. She slid her hand to the back of his neck, bringing him closer. "Love me, Charles."

He would never deny her.

Their love was more frantic, their need more desperate. She laughed in her bliss. He delighted in her joy, and held her wrists, keeping her from touching him. Her laughter faded as their pace increased. She cried out louder than before, her voice echoing in the night. The sound of her rapturous pleasure loosened his tongue. It released his last restraint.

He shouted, wordless sounds of ecstasy.

 _My wife, my mate, my lover. How I adore you!_

They lay gasping, holding each other, not wanting to let each other go.

Part of him was surprised that he was not yet exhausted.

But he was glad, _very_ glad for once, that he had not succumbed to sleep.

Especially since his wife continued to kiss him.

 _I am the most fortunate man alive,_ he thought, as she nipped his ear, sucked on the soft skin beneath his chin. Left marks on his collarbone. _I have the love of the goddess._

 _She could have had_ **anyone** _, and she chose me._

"My love," she breathed, hooking her arms beneath his, bringing him closer. "Touch me."

They had danced this before. Their rhythm perfect. Him pulling her up to sit, his lips teasing her neck, her hot, erratic breath at his ear. But there had never been such devotion in his kisses, nor such fervent whispers from her swollen lips.

And still, she wanted him.

He laid back, and she followed him in their endless circle, their hands clasped, their bodies intertwined.

 _I, Eala, goddess, love you, Charles, a mortal. You are the beloved of my heart, the worshipper of my body. You are Love to me. No other could ever claim your place._

She cried at the strength of her passion, and his. She kept her mortal form by basking in the feeling of her man inside her. _His woman._

 _His._

"My man, my husband," she breathed into his mouth, tasting him. "My lover." The friction of them together caused her to lose her breath. "I am-I am yours. _Yours._ " He held her hips, moving her higher along his torso. The angle deepened her pleasure. And his.

He groaned aloud, his hands sliding to her bottom. He thrust again, her perfect breasts pressed to his chest. His wife keened above him.

"Yes, _there_ , love!" She burst out. Her knees gripped him hard.

 _Closer, yes,_ _ **there**_ _-_

Her voice was loud, a long cry of release.

To his surprise, she pulled away from him before he reached his pleasure again. She turned onto her side.

"Is it too much?" He whispered, his hand sliding down her arm, his lips at her ear. He could not think of why she had turned away. "I will stop. If you want me to."

He would have to take care of himself, and get over his disappointment.

He would never force her.

 _It is her choice._

She trembled in his arms. He thought she was coming down from her high, and wanted to sleep.

Until she spoke.

"I want you." She reached back and pulled his head down, her fingers digging into the nape of his neck. "If you want me."

Her voice was a siren song to his heart.

 _How could I NOT want her!?_

His lips danced down her neck. Across her shoulder blades.

By the gods, she was delicious. His hips thrust forward and he moaned.

"I want you," he rumbled. "You, only you…" His mind screamed nothing but desire for his wife, and by the way she gasped and moved against his groin, her intent was the same.

He forced himself to take his time. To make their love last.

He rolled over onto his back and let her climb on top of him, as he had done so many times before. She leaned down to kiss him, but he eluded her.

She felt her longing for her husband building within her. Her breath came out in short bursts.

 _What he does to me, no one else could do._

 _No one._

The glow within her reflected onto his skin. She could make out old scars on his collarbone and thigh, his distinctive silhouette in the moonlight.

His lips and tongue teased her breasts. He gloried in the sounds she made, the deep sigh in the back of her throat.

It was worth the discomfort he felt.

His fingers slid down, gently searching - and finding - her most intimate secrets. She nipped his shoulder and let out a strangled moan, right on the edge. Her warm wetness on his fingers and hers made him cry out. He finally captured her mouth with his, wanting, yearning, to bring her bliss again. His own need was becoming desperate.

 _Let me love you. Let me give you pleasure before taking my own. I want you to remember our love, even though I will not._

 _Divine Goddess, help me give my wife every gift she desires._

He had never prayed while they made love before.

"Charles," she gasped, shaking. She broke away from his deep kiss and leaned back to let him sit up. Their legs were entangled.

His big hands caressed her lower back, sliding over her smooth skin. Then he clutched her bottom, bringing them ever closer together. She whimpered. He kissed her again, nipping her full lip with his teeth, tasting her sweetness.

He rolled his hips forward, drawing her legs around either side of his torso. He felt ready to burst; it was all he could do to wait a little longer.

He would, for her sake.

She held his face in her hands as they kissed, her fingers caressing his cheeks. Her thumbs on the dimple in his chin. He leaned his forehead against hers.

The only sound was their breathing.

There was lust in his eyes, yes. But there was more than that.

His pure adoration and love matched his heart.

It took all of her strength not to shatter.

"I love you," he murmured, his mouth meeting hers once more. His tongue flicked against her neck, against her favorite spot beneath her ear. "I want you to remember. Our love. Us. Always."

"Us," she whispered, tears pricking her eyes.

 _He speaks more truly than he knows._

The image of the rose cutting on the altar flashed in her mind.

He laid her on her back gently and dipped his head to kiss her.

"Oh my love," she breathed against his lips, "I will _always_ remember."

 _And so will you._

"Have me," she breathed against his lips. They kissed harder, deeper, yearning to have more. She pushed her hips forward just as he did the same. Both of them gasped at the contact.

She was desperate to have him inside her.

"Have me, take me now," she pleaded, her breath hot. "Take me now, _please-_ "

He lost his mind. _Elsie_ , begging him to take her.

At the same time they both reached between them, joining themselves until there was no space left. He cried out and thrust hard, delighting in the way she took him in. His hardness melting into the softness of her body. His joy was so great he thought his heart would burst out of his chest, in his love for her.

His love had overwhelmed her more than once, but especially now.

His arms held her; she felt the beat of his heart when she kissed his chest. All was scent, touch, sound. Taste. She yearned to be closer to him, to draw him in deeper.

 _Closer, closer, my heart._

It was as though they were fused together.

 _You are part of me._

He roared.

The woman in her reached her peak again.

"I am undone," she wept. The _feel_ of him, her husband, her Charles; no one had ever brought her more joy, more pleasure.

More love.

 _You desire to give me as much as I give you._

She pushed her hips up, meeting his, her hands pressed against his strong back. Feeling his seed pouring into her body.

 _Yes, yes, yes-_

They were as close as they could be in every way.

Had she been in divine form, their union would have made the dry fields outside bloom forth and the bare branches of the trees sprout leaves.

He did not begin, and she did not end.

Her body shook in her euphoria.

The stars in the sky listened, hearing the goddess exclaim her desire for the shepherd. Her voice spiraling wordlessly into the night.

She _was_ Pleasure; yet he gave her bliss unknown. Gave her back her gift.

She accepted it.

And she gave him one in return.

 _I give My gifts freely. I know your heart._

 _If I gave you all the pleasure I possessed, I would destroy you._

 _Neither I nor you want destruction. We desire love, and life._

 _My love, I will deny you no longer._

 _I cannot._

 _You wish to remember_ _ **us**_ _, I know._

 _Now you shall._

 _Even after we are parted, you will have a gift to always remind you of our love._

 _A gift you have desired._

 _And one I have as well._

 _Our child._

He took her, reveling in how complete they were together, how right their love felt. From her vocalizations, she felt the same.

She chanted his name like it was a prayer. Somehow he rolled over onto his back, keeping them together.

She sat up, throwing her head back in utter ecstasy. He could see her hair sweeping down her back. The curve of her face. The outline of her body as she moved, frantic, to continue their dance.

"Elsie," he called, thrusting into her. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs teasing her hardened nipples. She let out a strangled cry. Breathing in her intoxicating scent, he half-sat up and kissed her upturned chin, her neck. Marked her pale, freckled skin.

Her skin had a glow beneath it. A light shining within.

Sweat beaded in his hair, on his skin, rubbing onto hers. She gripped his hips with her knees and pushed him down again, riding him. His big hands straddled her hips as they grappled for a rhythm. Each desiring to give the other pleasure, not grasping for it themselves.

Wherever the line was between torment and ecstasy, they found it.

 _Impossible. Incredible._

He slipped out of her unwillingly. He was so stupefied by her it took all his strength to maintain a semblance of control over his mind and body.

His heart, he knew, was no longer his own. If it had ever been his.

 _It has always been hers._

It belonged to her. His woman who moved above him, her hands on his chest. Who breathed her love for him as they kissed.

"My heart is yours," she slid over him, lithe as a cat. "Yours. It belongs to you. Always." She kissed him passionately, on the edge of tears and desire.

Her voice was seduction itself.

 _Everything – her voice, her body, her, just her-_

In the span of a heartbeat he was desperate to have her again. For them to be together.

"Please," he gasped, no longer able to stand them being apart. "My woman, my wife-"

She felt his need for her. In her body, in her heart.

Along with her own.

She took him, reveling in the way his voice rumbled beneath her. How he bellowed his pleasure. His arms went back above his head, his hands in his curls.

The feel of him inside her made her scream, a wild torrent of song. A frisson of power ripped through her body, and it was only the intense love for her shepherd that kept her from coming apart. Keeping the form of the shepherdess from ripping asunder, revealing the goddess hidden within.

"My man," her voice mingled with his. "Husband, I… _belong_ to you, all of me is yours, let me feel you, _yes-_ "

As husband and wife, as mates, as lovers, they were equal.

Both were insensible for a time after she took him. Lost to their mutual hunger until they were both sated at last.

A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, rubbing onto his when they rested. She above him, her hands cradling his head. His big hands caressing her bottom, her legs, her back.

Breathing hard, neither were able to speak.

Their hearts beat in tandem.

The moon had reached its height as she lay with her back against her husband's broad chest. She smiled dreamily, basking in the heat of his body. His arms were wrapped tightly around her.

Pulling his hands down from her breasts to her belly, she lifted one hand and then the other, kissing each finger. Tasting her Charles. _Him._ He smelled of the earth, of rain-soaked ground. The deep rich fragrance of life.

He nuzzled her neck, kissed her shoulder. Inhaled the scent that was distinctly Elsie. _Her._ He tasted the salt tang of the sea, the wild climbing roses in summer. The sweetness of honey.

The last forgotten embers in the hearth had vanished long before they slept.

Neither of them saw the shower of sparks alight in the ashes.


	81. Broken

**A/N: THANK YOU for the lovely reviews from the last chapter! And on we go…back to the home of the gods.**

 **A word about time: time passes differently in the Divine Realm. The beginning of this chapter coincides with the events of the previous few chapters, and by the end skips a little ahead of what's going on in the mortal realm.**

 **Just so I don't confuse anyone: There is a flashback in the middle of this chapter. It has been told before about how Victor saw Eala on a mountain years ago, but this is the FIRST time he ever saw her. I never intended to go into this much detail about the God of Fire's past when I started this thing...**

 **The song used for inspiration for this chapter is Disturbed's version of "The Sound of Silence". I have literally been listening to it for a week – it's one of the most haunting renditions of any modern song I've ever heard.**

* * *

 _ **And in the naked light I saw**_

 _ **Ten thousand people, maybe more**_

 _ **People talking without speaking**_

 _ **People hearing without listening**_

 _ **People writing songs that voices never share**_

 _ **And no one dared**_

 _ **Disturb the sound of silence…**_

* * *

 _The echo of the Fire God's hammer rang in the stone walls of his forge. Other than his hammer, the movement of his automatons, and the crackle of the fire, there were few other sounds._

 _Sometimes Victor would watch mortals through the flames, but often he let it flit from person to person and from place to place, without giving it much notice._

 _Mortals' voices were rarely louder than the low hum of the fire. They were present, but they never intruded on the Master of Fire's solitude._

 _Victor was used to being alone._

 _It had been that way since the beginning._

 _ **His**_ _beginning._

 _When he had first opened his eyes, and seen the perfection around him, he knew it was something he could never be._

* * *

 **Years before...**

" _Go," the Queen said, her voice loud in the Hall. "You are not wanted here. If you do not leave, you will be_ made _to."_

 _She looked at Victor as though he was a worm. Less._

 _As though he was lower than the dust._

You MADE me _, he wanted to scream at her._ You simply cannot abide something that does not reflect Your own glory!

That You made something that is not perfect.

 _He was all too aware of his red face, his twisted foot._

 _Beside the Queen, the King said nothing. He only gestured with His chin towards the doors._

 _Victor glared at Him._

Coward. YOU could tell Her that I can stay.

 _But the King was silent._

 _The entire assembly was silent._

 _A rustling, a whispering among the assembled gods and goddesses, began when the God of Fire turned to walk out of the Hall._

 _Victor saw them all._

 _Marcas, the God of War, looking bored with his perfect arms crossed over his perfect chest. Athena, Marcas's sister, shook her head. Her golden helmet gleamed as she held it. There was pity in her eyes._

 _The Harvest Goddess, with her clear blue eyes. Her lip curled down as she frowned in Victor's direction, but she said nothing._

You are not perfect either, _the God of Fire thought as he passed her._ And yet they still want you.

They do not want me.

 _If he had a heart like mortal men, it would have broken in two. Instead he felt a heat deep in his chest; a dry, hungry sensation of flames clawing their way towards his mouth. Creeping at the corners of his eyes._

 _As he approached the great doors, they opened from the outside. A demigod, a son of the Healer, tried to slip into his seat without drawing attention to himself. His companion did not even try to be discrete._

 _Her glory was so bright Victor blinked. He could not look upon her directly, but he did not have to. He knew who she was._

 _Eala, Goddess of Love, had no need of introduction._

 _Her scent was overpowering – enticing, incessant._

 _Seductive._

 _She brought her own silence. The silence of awe._

 _It stopped Victor as much as if the King had put a hand on his shoulder._

 _The Queen broke the silence, pointing a finger at Eala. "You were_ _commanded_ _to be here long before now," she hissed. "How dare you disobey your Father!"_

" _I am here," Eala curtsied, her head bowed slightly. "My Queen, I am sorry for being late." She turned to the King. "Forgive me, Father."_

 _She was not in the least sorry, and everyone knew it._

 _As they all knew why she and her companion were late._

" _Sit down, child," the King said. He did not bother to hide the amusement in His voice. "I take it you were – detained?"_

 _The Healer's son giggled from his seat. His father glared at him, and he stifled his laughter._

 _Eala, as ever, had no shame. "I was."_

 _She never looked at the God of Fire._

 _Victor tore himself away from her scent, leaving to begin his exile. The gods had moved on to other things before the doors had fully closed behind him._

 _A cave on a low-lying island was his refuge. Except for a few sea-nymphs laughing nearby, it was empty._

 _The nymphs had no interest in him._

 _He learned to use his solitude as a shield. A means to hide the sparks that, despite his best efforts at times, engulfed him._

 _As he built his first forge and mastered the fire, he could not help thinking about the Goddess of Love. About how she had the ability to diminish even the other gods by her mere presence._

 _How everyone had completely ignored him the instant she appeared._

The Queen is jealous of her. Not just because Eala is one of the many symbols of the King's infidelity. Not just because she is beautiful.

Because she carries an authority with her.

 _Love is its Own power. It – She – cannot be broken. Or tamed._

 _Like Fire._

 _Victor caught glimpses of Eala over time: in assemblies at the Hall, and as he went from place to place. After he made weapons for the God of War, and a pretty throne for the Queen, he was invited to build a forge among the halls of the gods. They did not often acknowledge him, but at least he was not exiled anymore._

 _Though he still felt like one._

 _Athena was one of the few who was friendly. But she could not be with Victor all the time, nor always scold the others for mocking him._

 _Not that he wanted her to. Though he appreciated that she_ _saw_ _him, beyond a means to acquire what she wanted._

 _No one else did._

 _Not least the Goddess of Love._

 _Victor did not think of Eala much, until that fateful day when he walked in the mountains, and saw her walking and heard her singing._

 _From that day the thought of her, and his desire for her, never left him._

* * *

 _The banging of his hammer was loud. And yet, his forge was quiet._

 _Too quiet._

" _Stop," he commanded the automatons. They did, and the eerie silence became even louder._

 _Victor banked coals on his forge fire. The forge was plunged into greater darkness. Though some coals still burned._

 _The Master of Fire went to the entrance of his forge and looked out into the perfection that was the Divine Realm. Saw the bright palaces, high mountains and endless plains._

 _A few beings wandered here and there; no one of consequence._

 _For the first time in a long time, he really_ _looked_ _._

 _Peter lingered on the edge of a western sea in the mortal realm. Churning up a hurricane for his own amusement._

 _Athena was far off, answering calls from mortals in Hexham and Merton. She was trying to stave off the influence of Philip, her nephew. He gloried in war, and was never happier than when the mortals were slaughtering each other._

 _Marcas was nowhere to be seen._

 _Victor had never known the God of War to be absent wherever there was a battle to be seen._

 _ **Where IS he?**_

 _ **And where is the Messenger?**_

 _It was beyond strange not to see Harmony's consort. He was always flying from one place to the other._

 _The absence of the King of the Gods was more alarming. Victor perceived Him in golden fields. But what He was doing, or what He was planning, there was no sign._

" _Lost something?" a voice asked nearby. Victor flinched, and hated himself for doing so._

 _Derick, the other of Marcas's sons, laughed. His smile always angered the God of Fire._

 _ **Arrogant spawn-**_

 _Derick laughed even harder. He was delighted to have surprised Victor. "You were far away, Clubfoot. Pining for your lovely betrothed?"_

 _His words made the image of Eala appear to the God of Fire, as if she was actually there._

 _They were both aware of what the either was thinking. Victor held off the younger god's probing._

" _As if you care what I think," he growled. "Leave me."_

" _Certainly," Derick backed away, his hands behind his back. A flash of gold there reflected a beam of the sun._

 _Suspicion ripped through Victor. He turned to glance inside the forge._

 _ **No…**_

 _Eala's belt, his gift for his bride, was gone from its place._

 _Flames engulfed him as he saw his mistake._

 _He cursed. Derick was already far away._

 _ **Not for long.**_

" _GIVE IT BACK!" the God of Fire screamed as he raced after him. Wind roared around him, whipping the flames of his rage in a rising gale._

 _The son of Marcas led him behind clouds, over the farthest seas. Through a cleft in a range of mountains, beaten beneath the hot sun. Then back to the forge._

 _Derick held up the belt at the mouth of Victor's cave, showing it for all the Divine Realm to see._

" _Sapphires like Eala's eyes, rubies like the strands of her hair," he called, his echoing. "Gold as pure as her heart! Diamonds more precious than her-"_

 _Victor ripped the belt from his hands, and clutched Derick's long blond hair. He yanked the young god's head back. "SILENCE," he rumbled in his ear._

 _Every word Derick had spoken felt like a clod of earth on a silken tunic._

 ** _My bride-to-be deserves more respect._**

 _He was angry that Derick had riled him so easily. But when it came to Eala, and how he felt about her, he barely had a grasp on his own restraint._

 _Far away, beneath a mountain, buried fire stirred._

 _With enormous effort, the Master of Fire contained it._

 _Derick shrugged out of Victor's grip. "Silence me if you must. I speak the truth. All of the Divine know Eala." His teeth gleamed. "None better than my father."_

" _He is a liar, and has always boasted when he should have been silent." Victor spat flames, the taste of sulfur on his tongue. Remembering Marcas's boasting when he was Eala's lover._

" _He can be silent if he wants. And patient."_

 _His words almost made Victor laugh. He trudged back into the forge, setting the belt carefully back on its table, seeing if there were any marks made on the gold. There were not._

 _Derick leaned against the stone wall. The glow of the fire reflected red on his handsome face. "You think it impossible for the God of War to be patient, but he is when he_ wants _to be…like the Sea-God says, the greater the clouds in the sky, the bigger the storm."_

 _Victor heard what the young god was saying beyond his own words. He turned towards Derick, trying to read his thoughts, but Marcas's son eluded him._

" _He wants to start a war," the Master of Fire croaked. That much was clear._

 _Derick bowed, a mocking gesture. "Quite clever, Fiery One. If my father is not fighting a war, he's starting the next one."_

" _What is he waiting for, then?" Marcas preferred to fight openly. It unnerved Victor that his former friend hid in the shadows._

 _Nodding towards the forge's fire, Derick chose a sword hanging along the wall and pointed it towards the dancing flames. "Like a fire needs a spark, so too does war. Father feels he need only wait a little while longer, and he will get one."_

 _They both turned at the sound of clashing steel. Athena and Philip were sparring, the nephew roaring in glee as he thrust his spear at his aunt. She deflected it off her shield, and the ringing of metal was like a thunderclap._

" _No more!" shouted the Goddess of Wisdom. With a lightning-fast undercut, she knocked the spear from his hand, leaving him with his sword in the other. "You wish to defend your father, but he will have to answer to ME!"_

" _You have to catch him first!" Philip taunted her._

 _Derick laughed, watching his brother. Then he sighed, twirling the sword in his hand. "He knows better than to take her on alone." Taking a belt with a scabbard of gold attached, he put it on, sheathing the sword._

" _Stop." Victor grabbed his shoulder. He was not worried about Athena – she was an able warrior, no matter how many idiot nephews she fought – but the threat of war gave him a cold sense of dread. "Where will it be? The war?"_

 _He thought of Lily, pulling on his beard. Daniel and Andy joking together. Anna, a smile hovering on her lips._

 _The son of Marcas smiled, his knowing eyes gleaming at the God of Fire. "Where do you think?"_

 _Derick ran to join his brother. Victor closed his eyes for the briefest moment, then raced to his forge fire._

 _ **No, not there, not the only place that has ever felt like home…my friends…**_

 _He ran his hand through the flames. The mortals visible there, a merchant talking with a ship's captain on the coast of Flintshire, vanished._

 _A moment later he saw John and Anna._

 _Relief flooded through him. Their house was intact, and there was no sign of violence or war. It was nighttime. For once Kap was asleep, and Victor was glad to have a glimpse of his friends without the dog barking at him._

 _And then he wished Kap was awake. The couple, so often in step with each other, were having a rare argument._

" _-following me to the temple and back! You made me feel like a child!" Anna's hands were on her hips. The bump that was her child was visible in the flickering firelight._

" _I was worried about you." John protested, his eyebrows together. Anna huffed a long hair out of her eyes as she banked the fire. She did not put it out totally, but Victor was not surprised by this. The autumn nights could be chilly._

 _Whirling around from the fire, Anna faced her husband again. "You were worried…do you not_ _trust_ _me?"_

" _Of course I do, but-"_

" _But what?" She cried. "WHAT, John? Oh, I know…I might fall and break my ankle. I might stumble crossing the bridge, and drown in the river. I know what this is," she quieted her voice, which had been steadily rising. Andy snored from behind his blanket. "You don't think I should talk to Master Green when I see him in the village-"_

" _No, I don't," snapped John, a spark visible in his eyes that Victor could see despite the dim light. "I trust_ _you_ _, love, but I don't trust_ _him_ _."_

" _He has done nothing to deserve your suspicion," Anna said, taking a woven cloth from her loom. "Yours, or Kap's. NOTHING. If you could just tell me why you don't trust him…"_

 _They were talking, but not really speaking. Hearing, but not listening._

" _I just don't. I don't like him." John ran a hand over his lined face. "I wish I could say why, but there is something about him that is just not right." He helped Anna unroll their sheepskin._

 _She knelt on it, her hands on her knees. "It's nice to make friends," she said finally. "He won't be here forever, he's got to try and sell his rope elsewhere. He'll be going north soon. That's what Ivy said he told her. I know you want to look after me, but sometimes I feel like you don't want me being friends with anyone but you."_

 _A fleeting look of hurt, invisible to mortals but visible to the Divine, passed over John's face. "I…I want you to have friends. To have fun," he whispered. "It's…I just know that if anything ever happened to you, I would never forgive myself."_

 _Anna reached out and touched his face. "Nothing is going to happen to me. We have a good home, and good lads working with us. A loyal dog." She smiled when John did. He put his hand over hers on his face and kissed it._

" _A_ _very_ _loyal dog. All right," he said. "Promise me that whenever you talk to Master Green, someone else is nearby. Joseph, or Ivy, or-"_

 _Rolling her eyes, Anna got to her feet. "Every time I've talked to him there's been other people around. But yes, I promise."_

 _When she started removing her tunic, Victor turned away. Some gods indulged themselves while watching the mortals, but not the God of Fire._

 _He waited until his friends slept. Then he put his hand in the fire again, moving away from them, searching, searching…_

 _He did not know the man they were talking about. But he could find him._

 _ **A rope-maker. A traveler. Somewhere near Downton.**_

 _He knew his friends well. John could be overbearing. While Victor had lived among them, he sometimes tried to assuage his blacksmith friend's fears._

 _ **He's a brooder, no doubt.**_

 _But the God of Fire also knew that mortals were given intuition for a reason. Even if they did not understand why._

 _On the outskirts of Downton, on the far side of the bridge, Victor found the rope-maker. His campfire was low, and he was fast asleep, covered by his ragged green cloak that had given him his name._

 _Victor gasped when he saw his face._

 _ **I know him.**_

 _ **I KNOW him.**_

 _ **Oh, no…**_

 _ **Yes.**_

 _ **That Midsummer night…**_

 _ **Not this year, but last, by the mortal's reckoning.**_

 _ **He attacked Ethel, and he raped Lavinia!**_

 _The rope-maker had returned to Downton once more._

 _Victor watched him through the crackling flames, his fists clenched._

 _It would be nothing, nothing at all, to spark Green's campfire and set the man ablaze. No one was near him, and even if someone heard him scream, he would be as good as dead by the time any help came to him._

 _No one would think anything had happened – just that his fire had gotten away from him. Such things happened often._

 _ **It would be easy.**_

 _But as Victor watched him sleep, he could not bring himself to do it. Not even knowing who, and what, Green was._

 _Marcas had told him once, ages before, that he was weak. It was a mercy to kill mortals from time to time, the God of War had argued. Their lives were so short – what did it matter if they were shorter?_

 _ **Maybe I am weak.**_

 _Athena had argued, saying that it was good for the gods to be merciful._

 _Was it wise to be merciful, Victor wondered?_

 _ **I see the mortals, their weaknesses, and I remember my own imperfection in the sight of the gods.**_

 _Unlike the King, Victor could not see the man's future. Green had done evil before, but that did not mean he would ALWAYS do evil._

 _ **Mortals have a choice.**_

 **I** _ **have a choice, too.**_

 _It would be one thing, Victor thought, if he had killed Green on Midsummer. He had caught the man in the middle of a terrible act._

 _ **I intended to. He knocked me out before I could.**_

 _But now the man was sleeping. Not doing anything to anyone._

 _ **Innocent is not the right word for him.**_

 _ **But I cannot kill him. Not now.**_

" _I'll let Hades have you. In his own time," he growled through the fire, knowing that Green would not hear him, but that he would have a lingering sense of danger in his dreams. "But I swear to you…if you lay a finger on her…I will kill you. And your death will be a fire that will not end."_

 _His threat was not just to protect Anna, though she was foremost in his thoughts. It was also for Phyllis, Lily, Ivy, and every other woman in Downton._

 _Victor changed the fire again, letting it flit from one to the next, not caring where it went. He thought about Anna, and cursed, wondering why he had left his friends when he did._

 _ **Athena asked me. To help her see what is going on.**_

 _He laughed a little under his breath, and looked out from his forge, shaking his head at all he could not see._

 _The Wise Goddess and her nephews were still fighting in a fine melee, but they had moved on a bit. Their fight reminded Victor of what truly mattered. Far more than one loathsome man sleeping on a riverbank._

 _ **War coming…**_

 _A moan came from his fire. The rumble of a man's low voice._

 _Victor cringed._

 _He had heard everything from mortals through their fires – mates shouting as they argued. The laughter of children. Whispers as loved ones said goodbye to those near death._

 _Moans of pleasure as the mates made love, their coupling spurred on by the desire given to them from the Goddess of Love._

 _Victor was not wont to listen to that._

 _The sounds of love were too raw. They touched a part of him that had been ignited from the moment he had first been banished from the Hall._

 _ **When mates are together, they are not alone.**_

 _He was halfway to his fire to change it, when a spark burst. In the sudden flame, he saw who the couple was._

 _Who they were._

 _Then he heard her._

 _Eala._

" _Oh, my love," she breathed. Her voice had a softness Victor had never heard before. "I love you, Charles. I love you…"_

 _Through the dying embers of their hearth fire, he saw their entwined hands. How her body rose as the shepherd kissed her._

 _How they sang a song together than no one else could share._

 _It shattered the silence._

 _Frantically, Victor threw coals on his forge fire. To bury it, to smother it, to put it out._

 _To stop the sounds from reaching him._

 _But his fire could no more be put out than his own inner fire could be quenched._

 _The more he did not want to hear, the more he heard._

 _Heard the man's whispered words of love._

 _Heard the goddess's pleas._

 _When she begged her mortal lover to take her (_ Her _begging! Eala!), Victor threw himself onto the floor, his fingers crushing the stone beneath. The ground rippled. Cracks appeared in the sides of the forge. His automatons fled._

 _For one breathless moment he heard a quiet note, like the string of a lyre being plucked for the first time. Then it was swallowed in the midst of Eala's voice._

" _I am undone," she cried._

 _ **No**_ _, thought Victor._

 **I** _am the one who is undone._

 _He felt as though he were a piece of iron being hammered to oblivion – cracks appearing in white-hot heat, and it was all he could do to hold himself together. To keep from shattering from the inside out._

 _Eala's love for the shepherd he had long suspected. But the truth was worse than he could ever have imagined._

 _ **She has given Herself to him. HIM. The shepherd.**_

 _ **She wants him.**_

 _ **She will never want**_ **me** _ **like that.**_

 _ **No one wants you.**_

 _ **For love or desire or for any reason.**_

 **That's not true** _ **, he told himself.**_

 _He did not believe it._

 _His mortal friends would forget him, and he would forever be an outcast among the gods._

 _Even after he married._

 _The shepherd's voice, loud to mortals but soft to Victor, rose and fell. Eala's voice echoed in the forge. Their blended song would have been beautiful to anyone who heard it._

 _To the God of Fire, it served as a hammer, beating him with its strength._

 _There was silence after the lovers slept._

 _Silence that seemed to stretch on forever._

 _Victor dragged himself upright. He saw the crumbling edges of his forge. He sat with his back against it, alone in the stifling heat and darkness._

 _He thought of everything to keep the flames at bay, to keep them from consuming him._

 _Athena. His automatons, the creatures of his hands. Mortal friends who had long since departed to Elysium. Friends like Toby._

 _Friends who still lived, friends who had not yet forgotten him._

 _Daniel. Baby Lily, Phyllis, Joseph. Andy._

 _The blacksmith John. Anna, and her unborn child._

 _Eala's belt lay on the floor. He picked it up, held it in his hands. Drops splashed on it, steaming._

 _His tears._

 _ **Broken.**_

 _ **The belt is not broken, but I am.**_

 _ **I have always been broken.**_

 _Setting the belt back on his table, he took a gasping breath. Wind clawed down his throat, into his chest. Drawing out the flames that had nestled there._

 _He roared, and the sound rumbled through all of the Divine Realm, shaking the stars._

 _With one swift motion, he took up his hammer. Slammed it down. In rage, in grief._

 _Sparks flew in the forge as he hammered. The muscles in his arms bulged, his face red._

 _The God of Fire erupted._

* * *

 **TBC...**


	82. Irresistible

**GO BACK AND READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER, IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY.**

 **I didn't** _ **intend**_ **for this chapter to be M (again), but intentions get thrown out the window when it comes to Chelsie. Sheeeeeeesh. Oh, and slight M for language later. Jimmy deserves everything he gets. He's not terrible, he's just horny. And stupid enough to say things out loud.**

 **Also, the end of _this_ chapter coincides with the end of the last chapter (Divine/mortal time difference: hence why you should read the previous chapter first, unless you really want a spoiler)**

* * *

The soft rustle of a bird's wings, light on the wind, roused Charles.

He breathed deep. The last thing he wanted was to get up.

He hovered between waking and sleep.

 _Did I dream last night?_

Elsie, reaching for him. Kissing him until he gasped for air. Moaning beneath him as he marked her skin.

Like the tide rising on the seashore, her desire for him had climbed, even after they had made love numerous times.

 _Four? Five?_

He had trouble remembering. Each time had flowed into the next.

What he could remember was the way her skin had gleamed in the moonlight, her leaning back as she had ridden him, her mouth open.

The _sounds_ she had made.

Her gasps, her panting breath. Her crying out as they had come together.

Her words of love that had burrowed into his chest.

Once he had felt something – not a frisson of heat, exactly, but something he could not describe – that had shot its way through his body, hummed in his blood.

She had screamed then.

It had sounded like a note of a song, in a tone and language he did not know.

The very memory of it made him hard.

That, and the feel of his wife stirring in his arms, brought him fully into waking.

"Mmmm," she murmured, her back warm against his chest. He caressed her gently, down her belly, and up again to her breasts.

They fit perfectly in his hands.

 _She is real,_ his heart sang. _Real, and here._

 _She is no dream._

He kissed her cheek, her jaw. The spot beneath her ear. Her fingers whispered through the short hairs on his face. The stubble on his chin.

"It is past daybreak," she croaked. Her voice was thick with sleep, and sounded as rusty as a sword left in a rainstorm. It made him smile.

"It is. I would have thought you'd have gotten up by now." He felt her shiver as his breath danced on the back of her neck. His own voice was ragged. He cleared his throat.

"My husband kept me awake most of the night." There was a smile in her voice, too.

"How rude of him, not to let you sleep."

She turned in his arms, and the gleam in her deep blue eyes melted him. As did her arched eyebrows. "Who said I _wanted_ to sleep?"

They kissed. Her fingers curled into the hair at the back of his neck. She was warm, soft, inviting.

Intoxicating.

Charles broke away from her as a sparrow alighted in the window, chirping. "I'm sorry," he took a deep breath, leaning his forehead against hers. "But it is late, and I must get up. We both have to…as much as we'd rather stay like this."

His reluctance reminded him of the day after they had wed. It was always hard for either of them to part, especially now, when a breeze rustled in the cold ashes of the hearth and their bodies were warm beneath the blanket. But the day would not wait.

Charles could smell Elsie on him. He was certain his scent lingered on her.

He sat up, feeling the cool air brush across his skin, raising goosebumps.

The naked desire in her eyes nearly made him lay down again.

"Go," she pressed her warm hand against his chest, his beating heart. "You have to milk the goats, and the lads will want something to eat…" She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.

He felt drunk, half-asleep still, as he got dressed. Even after doing his chores, he still felt muddled.

His back ached, and his legs felt weak. He laughed under his breath, splashing water on his face and chest after he shaved at the well.

 _If the price I must pay for having the goddess as my wife is an aching body, it's one I will gladly pay. Every time._

To his surprise, Elsie was not sweeping the floor when he came back inside. Nor was she at the hearth. The ashes were as cold as they had been since the night before.

Charles set down the goat's milk and the pail of water and saw his wife standing and looking out the window, her eyes far away. She was not even dressed – though she held her blue cloak against her front to shield against the morning chill.

But her back and legs were bare.

He swallowed, all coherent thought vanishing from his mind. She was beautiful; she _always_ was. In the morning light, he could see the grey strands of her hair mingling with the auburn and brown, trailing down her back. Tiny lines were visible in the corners of her eyes. Freckles dotted her shoulder blades and decorated the small of her back. He saw a scrape of skin along her ribcage, scabbed over.

 _I did that._

Feeling like a bee drawn to nectar, he came up behind her and rested his hands on her hips. She sank back against him. He could feel the heat of her body through his tunic.

"Touch me," she whispered as he buried his nose into her hair. When she rubbed her bum against his groin, he groaned.

"W-we can't," he protested, even as he pressed a slow kiss against her shoulder. Another on her neck, a slight nibble of her ear. "Th-the flock…the lads…" She shivered, and held his hand against her belly.

"Please," her voice was barely more than a breath. "I need you. I need you. Now. _Please_."

He stopped breathing as she moved his hand down her belly and across the plane of her abdomen. The soft hair of her mound was wet.

" _Goddess_ ," he panted, his heart pounding so hard he thought it would go straight through her. "Wife, lover-"

He lost the ability to speak coherently as she moved his hand.

Arching against him, she pulled on his neck, bringing his mouth down to her collarbone. "My lover, my heart," she gasped. "My man, my only… _touch me._ "

She turned in his arms, dropping the cloak on the sheepskin. He lifted her as her tongue teased his; she kissed him as though they had been separated for days. Running her fingers through his hair, her touch made him shiver.

At times like this, he felt like no one had ever touched him before.

 _Not like she does._

 _Like I am divine, and she is mortal._

Somehow he carried her nearer the window. There was a small, sturdy table there that they sometimes used to write letters.

Charles set her on it, and Elsie untied his rope belt. She swore in frustration as her fingers were too jittery to untangle the knot as quickly as she wanted.

As either of them wanted.

But she did succeed, and she tossed the rope across the room. Then she pulled her husband closer by his tunic and kissed him again. Her wordless moans almost made him come undone on the spot.

"N-not here," he stuttered, his mind whirling. The table would never hold _his_ weight as well as hers. He frantically looked about, his eyes falling on the little altar, to the table where they ate meals. He dismissed the hearth out of hand, knowing that the brick was far too hard and coated with ashes besides.

His first instinct was to lay her down on the sheepskin again. But as they both removed his tunic from him, he could see by the darkness – the wildness - in her eyes that she simply could not wait that long.

Nor could he.

Kicking his tunic from where it lay at his feet, he then lifted her in his arms again. She wrapped her legs around his torso as he stumbled against the wall by the window, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her bum.

Sunlight speckled on her shoulder. She cried out when they joined, and got louder the faster they moved.

"Charles," she moaned in his ear, her fingernails digging into his back. She nipped his shoulder and actually bit his earlobe. It hurt, but he didn't care.

How could he, when she, the two of them together, felt _so good?_

She did not seem to care either, as she bumped against the wall. For a moment he thought she was weeping, then he heard her laugh. It was a sound of joy, not a mocking one.

"Y-yes," she laughed. "Oh, _yes._ "

His legs protested, his back was screaming, but all the pain was worth it when she reached her peak mere moments later. He followed at the same time.

Their shouts echoed in their home, and out the window, causing several birds in the bare tree to take flight.

His body hummed. He felt _alive_ , exhilarated.

It was not just the physical act of their union that brought him such bliss; there was a symmetry when they were together. She knew him better than anyone else, of course. But he knew _her_ : not the goddess, of course, but the woman.

He grunted with exertion, kissing along her jawline. Gasping, she squeezed her legs around his hips as he spent himself inside her.

For several moments it was quiet, except for the sound of the whispering wind and their heavy breathing.

Elsie, shaking, untangled her legs from around her husband. His skin was damp with sweat, and she felt clammy. She stood on wobbly legs and tilted his face down to meet hers.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips.

Her chest down to her belly was flushed pink where their skin had rubbed together.

They held each other for a while, kissing, before he cleaned himself and dressed again.

This time she did the same.

By the time Charles left to watch the flock, several warm loaves of bread and cheese in his hands, no one would have guessed that they had shared such passionate moments that morning.

Except that she smelled of earth, and the scent of roses lingered with him.

* * *

Later in the day, Elsie sat on the hill with the flock. She struggled to keep her eyes open, and pinched the skin on her palm. That failed to wake her further.

So she got up and paced, walking back and forth. Freya tilted her head at her mistress.

"Don't look at me like that," Elsie raised her eyebrows at the dog. "All right, I deserve it…I did not get enough sleep last night, either. But Charles is sleeping now. I am not going to keep him up _all_ the time."

 _I cannot._

Freya slumped down, rather unimpressed. Nosi ambled over to Elsie as she turned, and sniffed at her feet. Her ears pricked up and she barked. She stayed at the shepherdess's heels, nearly causing her mistress to fall over her when she turned.

"Are you trying to trip me?" Elsie bent down and petted Nosi's head. The dog barked again, and licked her hand. Then she turned towards her mother. Freya raised her ears and barked back.

 _Woof woof woof_

Elsie clutched her crook. "Not so loud," she muttered in Freya's direction. " _Shhhh._ " She stopped at the look in Nosi's dark eyes. "Yes," she murmured. "It's true. I'm carrying a child. Mine and Charles's…" she could not keep the smile from her face. "But _he_ does not know yet, and he won't, not for a while. If I was mortal _I_ would not know for certain, for two cycles of the moon at least!"

 _But I am the Goddess, and I DO know for certain._

Already she felt it. She had felt this way, once, long years before.

 _It is similar, and yet completely different._

One of the first, immediate, changes was that her desire was stronger.

Much, _much_ stronger.

Midsummer was _Her_ day, and on the holy day her need for Charles was heightened.

 _Now EVERY day is like Midsummer._

She bit her lip to keep back a moan, forgetting it was swollen, and she whimpered at the pain.

She would have to keep her lust at bay; though her husband loved her, he was not Divine.

 _We both have to eat, and sleep._

 _Especially him._

She sighed, running a hand through her wind-blown hair. When she had carried Harmony, her own rampant lust had kept her in Marcas's embraces long past the time she had wanted to break with him.

 _He knew I would bed anyone that moved, and he took advantage of my desire. He used it against me._

She had more control over herself now. Living in mortal form had given her discipline – of a sort. She laughed under her breath.

 _Charles taught me restraint._

 _If only I could restrain myself more when he holds me in his arms. Or when he kisses me, or looks at me…_

Tears pricked at her eyes. She was happier than she had dreamed of being, and the thought of what her man would say when she told him she carried their child was enough to make her weep with joy.

 _I could tell him now._

She was tempted, but she wanted to wait. For one thing, she was not sure how her pregnancy would appear. To be sure, she was in mortal form, but the only other time she had carried a child, she had been in her _true_ form.

Divine.

How long would she carry this child? Her intuition told her that it might be the length of a mortal woman's time. But she could not be sure.

 _Our child, our wee bairn, Charles's and mine, is half-mortal._

 _And half divine._

 _Isobel will try to guess how long my time will be._

Elsie was even less willing to tell either of the priestesses the truth, though she knew they would eventually have to be told. For more than one reason.

Before the priestesses, or any other of her and Charles's friends were told, their children would have to be told the news.

Warm tears ran down her cheeks, and she tasted salt.

 _Sybil will be the best sister. She can teach her younger brother or sister about the gods even better than I will. Edward will be patient and gentle. Like a second father._

 _Thomas will spoil him or her._

 _As will Charles._

 _As will I._

Already, she knew she would have a difficult time denying her child anything. She ran a hand over her flat belly.

"Little one," she whispered, smiling even as her tears flowed, "Do you know how much you are loved?"

Stephen emerged from the hut beneath the oak tree, to her left. Elsie hastened to wipe her face. She did not want any of the apprentices to see her crying, least of all the youngest. He had a gentle heart.

 _Like Charles._

She had composed herself by the time the boy had climbed the hill to reach her.

"Hello, Mistress," Stephen grinned, his blond hair flopping onto his forehead. "Has there been a messenger from Downton? Gran said she'd write to me."

"I haven't seen one. Not today. At midday, the master said that he hadn't seen one this morning," she sat back down, pulling her skirt. "You saw your grandmother on the last day of the Festival. What news would she have for you, after only two days?"

He petted Nosi, who had gone over to him. "I bought her a medallion with the gold I saved. She said she was going to buy some cloth from a traveling weaver and make a dress. I want to know what color she chose – I hope it's like that purple cloth Thomas and Edward bought you."

The cloth her sons had given her earlier in the summer had been woven into a blanket, with Anna's help.

"A medallion? That was generous of you," Elsie smiled at the boy. "You didn't join in the games on the riverbank, then?"

"Some, but I didn't make _wagers_ ," he rolled his eyes at her raised eyebrows. "Alfred warned me about that. So did Jimmy. He said men who get boys to place wagers are only trying to cheat them."

 _James would know._

"And Andy said he lost gold on wagers, but he got it all back," Stephen continued. "Daniel was with him. They ended up playing a game with a traveling rope-maker that was really fun." His face fell. "I wish I could've stayed in the village that last night, instead of watching sheep. Daniel said he hadn't laughed so much since-since Mum died."

Elsie squeezed his hand. "I am glad your brother had a good time," she said gently. "Maybe he can teach you the game when you next see him."

It was not long before a messenger on horseback trotted down the road towards them.

Elsie and Stephen went down the hill to meet him, Freya trailing behind.

"One from Downton, for the shepherd's apprentice. Stephen," the young man said in a bored voice, dismounting. He had dirty brown hair and a large boil on his nose. He pulled out a small scroll from his bag and handed it to Stephen, who gave him a coin. "And I think I have another…let me see…"

"She _did_ get the purple cloth," Stephen said to Elsie, reading his letter. "I think she'll look beautiful in a dress that color, don't you?"

"I do," Elsie said. "Your gran is a fine-looking woman."

"-got a letter here from the king's hall, for a Mistress Elsie," the messenger grunted, holding up another scroll. For the first time, he looked the shepherdess in the face.

"That's me," she said. She held out her hand, but the youth only stared at her, with his mouth gaping open. He barely seemed to notice when she pulled the scroll from his hand. She had to place the coin in his hand and fold his fingers over it for him to hold it.

And still, he stared.

"Are you all right?" Stephen asked him. He waved a hand in front of the messenger's face, and only then did the young man blink. His eyes were watering.

"Right…um…" The youth suddenly pulled on his tunic and stood up a bit straighter. " _Mistress_ , is it? Is there a master here? Or are you a widow? Seems like a lonely life, looking after the sheep." He took a step forward, his voice oily. "You could, uh, come with me. See a bit o' the world."

Elsie was torn between annoyance and laughter. "I have a husband," she said steadily. "He makes me very happy. I have all I want here."

" _I_ could show you things you ain't never seen before. _Give_ you things-"

The messenger took another step towards her, but Freya growled, and Stephen stepped in front of Elsie.

"Leave her alone!" he cried. "You'd better go before the master gives you a whack on the head with his crook!"

The messenger did not look convinced, sneering at the young boy. "Oh, are _you_ going to hit me with _your_ crook, you little mouse? I'd like to see you try-"

Freya growled again, and let out a bark, baring her teeth. The youth flinched and stumbled backward, falling onto the ground. He then mounted his horse and set off down the road again.

Stephen grabbed Elsie's hand as they walked back up the hill.

"There's no need," she said. "He's gone, and he won't bother me now."

"It's not that." His usually cheerful face was solemn. "Before he died, Granddad told me and Daniel to protect Gran. That she's a pretty woman, and men might try to hurt her. She can look after herself, and so can you, but…"

"You wanted to protect me." Her heart was touched. "From him?"

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Did you see how he stared at you?"

She had. And she knew why.

 _I am in love, and carrying a child, and he and most men will be drawn to me like dogs in heat._

 _More now than ever._

Stephen was not yet old enough to be affected by her. She was glad of that.

She nodded, and brushed some of the boy's hair back from his forehead. "He isn't going to hurt me. No one is. Not with you _and_ Freya here." Her dog stood next to them. She was calm, but Elsie could see her ears up.

Alert.

Elsie's hood had come off as they walked down the hill; it was too much trouble to keep pulling it up with the wind, and she relished the feel of the sun on her face.

 _I will have to be more careful._

With the festival over, though, the visitors were leaving Downton. She felt sure she could handle the local men. And those who gave her trouble would have Charles and the apprentices, not to mention the dogs, to contend with.

The letter for her was from Sybil. It was not long, and it held even less news, but it cheered Elsie to hear from her daughter.

 _Now that the Harvest Festival is over, we will not have to wait long for an announcement from Lady Mary as to her choice of husband. I will send word as soon as I can._

 _Thomas and Edward send their love along with mine. I miss you, Mother. Give Papa a hug and kiss from me, and tell him to give you one of each from me. He promised me he would do that._

 _I long for rain. Hopefully it will come soon._

 _Love,_

 _Sybil_

Rain was not all her daughter hoped for. Elsie felt her heart clench at the thought of her merry son-in-law. She hoped he would come soon, if only to comfort his wife.

* * *

Voices drifted on the breeze from the meadow.

Elsie walked up there, to see if Alfred wanted anything to eat or drink. James was with him, as she had thought – and so were Ivy and Anna, who stood laughing with the two young men near the ash tree.

Anna embraced Elsie with sheer delight.

"I was sorry to miss you during the Festival," the blonde woman said. "Ivy and I were just visiting Emma. It's so good to see you!"

"You look well. _Very_ well," Elsie said, stepping back to get a better look at her young friend. Anna was radiant, her cheeks pink, her belly showing. "Beautiful."

 _Almost as beautiful as me._

"Thank you," Anna blushed, looking down. "John keeps telling me I am, but it's nice to hear it from someone with a different view." A secret smile played on her lips. "My husband says I'm in love. And I am – with a stranger," her fingers ghosted across her bump. "I just started feeling him or her move a few days ago."

"How wonderful!" Elsie clasped her hands together, to keep herself from making the same gesture. "Do you think your little one is a boy or girl?"

 _Now, now. You shouldn't pry._

 _Especially when you KNOW, and Anna does not._

"I don't know," Anna wiped at the corner of her eye, grinning. "Truly. John thinks I'm carrying a girl. I told him he only hopes I am so _he_ can have the honor of naming our child."

It was an old custom in Grantham that daughters were named by their fathers, and sons by their mothers.

"I'm sure he has more than one reason to want a daughter," Elsie smiled gently. "So you are following that tradition? Joseph and Phyllis didn't with Lily."

"I saw Phyllis yesterday, and she said they aren't sorry Master Bill named his granddaughter." Ivy tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. "But she did say she would not be disappointed if they had another girl, just so Master Joseph has a chance to name her."

"He wouldn't be disappointed if they had a son. He wants Phyllis to have her way with the naming," Anna said. "John and I have agreed to abide by that _one_ custom, at least. He was named by his mum, and my dad named me. I have a few names in mind, if we have a son."

"What do you think?" Ivy asked the lads, both of whom had gone quiet. "Do you think Anna's having a boy or a girl?"

Neither of the apprentices answered her. Alfred's face had gone as red as his hair, and Jimmy had a very familiar glint in his eye.

They both gaped at the shepherdess.

Elsie fought to keep from rolling her eyes.

 _It is not their fault. Not really._

 _But they COULD look away if they wanted to._

 _They'll have to. Charles will never stand for this. Nor will I._

"James," she said, keeping her expression rather severe. " _James!_ Ivy asked you a question."

The young man dragged his eyes from her to Ivy. "Sorry…what'd you say?"

"I asked if you thought Anna's going to have a boy or girl," Ivy muttered, disgruntled. She glared in Alfred's direction.

Jimmy shrugged. "Dunno. But I must say, Mistress," he arched an eyebrow, giving Elsie his full attention again, "You look tasty today."

Elsie was saved from slapping him when Ivy did it herself. Alfred's face went from red to puce, and Jimmy yelped.

"Bloody _hell_...I was only joking!" He clutched at his face. To the hidden goddess's satisfaction, it looked like Ivy had left a mark.

Anna did roll her eyes. "You know better than that," she said. "You're lucky the mistress didn't slap you herself."

 _Who says I won't?_

Though Elsie had a strong suspicion that if she slapped Jimmy, instead of it putting him off, it might make him worse. "I should send you away right now," she said in a low voice. "Without your wages – and _after_ telling Master Charles."

"Don't send me away, not yet. I'm skint again-don't tell the master what I said," Jimmy's face lost all color, except for the red mark Ivy had given him. "He'd- _please_ , Mistress, I'm sorry, I should never have said it-"

"No, you shouldn't've," Alfred croaked.

"Your tongue will get you in trouble one day, James. It likely already has," Elsie tapped her crook against the hard earth as Nosi wandered up to her and licked her ankle.

" _Stop_ ," hissed Ivy, yanking Alfred's cloak. He was still staring far too intently at Elsie. "You see her every day!"

"Sorry," he mumbled, bending down to pet Vyr. His puppy had wandered over from the sheep to greet her sister. Alfred then dragged Jimmy behind the ash tree, and the two talked in low voices.

The shepherdess felt a stab of guilt. It was not really the lads' fault that they stared, no more than that messenger.

 _I am irresistible to the gods - much more to the mortals._

 _Perhaps I should wear a veil again, like when we traveled to Staithes._

"Where is Kap?" She asked Anna. "This is the first I've seen you without him since the spring."

"He's at Emma's," Ivy piped up. "He didn't seem to want to leave her."

"Really?" Elsie raised her eyebrows. Freya's only son was very protective, especially of women, but he was closest to Anna.

"I was surprised too," Anna sat down. "He did not come with me when we left Emma's, but he'll come after me when we go home. The few times he's been away from me, he always comes back. He ran ahead of us when we were walking from Downton, but I that was because he wanted to see Vyr and Nosi. He caught up to us when we were almost to Emma's."

"I'm sure he misses his sisters. He does not often get to see them," Elsie smiled at Vyr and Nosi, who played together. "You and Master John should come visit us soon. Bring Andy and Daniel with you."

"We will," Anna leaned back on her hands, letting the breeze fan her face. "At first I was worried about Kap," she murmured. She glanced at Ivy. "I thought maybe _he_ was walking south of the village, and my lovely, stubborn, loyal furry friend was going to take another chance to attack him!"

"He _really_ doesn't like him," Ivy crossed her arms.

"Who?" Elsie asked, feeling lost. Vyr brushed against her leg, and she took the opportunity to pet the dog. Vyr's dark eyes met hers.

 _Anna._

 _She's in danger._

 _Kap saw him._

Elsie rubbed Vyr's head, trying to see who Kap had shown his sister. Vyr's vision was not as clear as Kap's, but the face was clear enough to the goddess. She gasped.

 _HIM._

 _I've seen him._

 _On Midsummer. He stared at me, too bold for his own good._

A man with dark hair and a scar on his cheek.

"Master Green," Anna told Elsie. "He's a traveling rope-maker. From the first time I talked to him, Kap tried to bite him. He's only been that way once before," her face fell. "And he ended up being friends with-with that man. Maybe he just needs time to get used to Master Green."

"There's no chance he'll get used to him now," Ivy wrapped her lavender cloak around her shoulders, looking disappointed. "I saw Master Green early this morning, leaving Downton. Going north. He said it was time for him to move on. It's too bad," she said, looking at Elsie. "He's quite good-looking, and great fun. He showed us new games to play during the festival! Alfred and Jimmy kept trying to leave, but he kept convincing them to stay. Daisy and I used to have fun like that. She would've loved it," she sighed. "I had a headache from laughing so much. Uncle Richard gave me crushed roots, and scolded me for coming home so late. I don't know why he was angry – Alfred and Jimmy walked me home first."

All the hair on the back of Elsie's neck was standing on end.

 _The lads saved you, that's certain._

 _Had you been alone…_

Her intuition was screaming at her. This Master Green meant nothing good.

 _So that's why Alfred and James were so late coming home that night._

 _Because of him._

"He told you he was leaving Downton? That's odd," Anna frowned at Ivy. "He told me yesterday that he would see me today. He promised Daniel to give him a gold coin he'd won for him at the games, and one for Stephen too. I would think he would've said goodbye if he knew he wouldn't be back here."

It was apparent Anna was friendly with the man, and that frightened Elsie more than anything. Still, she hid it.

"What does he look like?" She asked, pretending not to know. Both Anna and Ivy described him, and she bit her lip. Considering how much to say.

 _If Ivy is right, he's gone._

 _But he was definitely here at Midsummer, and now during the Harvest Festival._

 _What if he comes back?_

"Anna…I think I saw him," she said finally. "At Midsummer. He wore a green cloak like you said, and had a scar on his cheek, just there," she fingered her own. "I…did not speak to him, but I did _not_ like the look of him. At all."

"It couldn't have been him. Not at Midsummer," Anna said, doubt in her blue eyes. "He had just come from Baldersby before the Harvest Festival, and before then, Thirsk." A line appeared on her forehead. "You sound like John."

Vyr tugged on the edge of Elsie's skirt. Nosi whined. It was clear to Elsie that Kap had warned both of them.

The shepherdess met Nosi's eyes. Neither Ivy nor Anna saw her.

 _Master Green lied._

 _But where did he really come from?_

 _If he was here at Midsummer, he surely could not have been far away._

 _Why would he come back to Downton?_

She sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. She could not argue with Anna, since there was no way of telling her friend that the bold man she'd seen at Midsummer and Master Green were one and the same.

"I can't explain it," she said. "But I feel certain that the man I saw was the man you know."

Anna raised her eyebrows. "You might feel certain, but you can't _be_ certain." She huffed out a sigh.

 _Oh, I can._

"He's very friendly," Ivy said. "Mistress, if you'd have met him, you would've liked him. Everyone did."

"Everyone except John, and Kap," muttered Anna.

Elsie was more thankful than ever that one of Freya's pups watched over her friend.

 _I would have thrown Master Green across the river._

 _And then thrown him into it, just for good measure._

She was extremely skeptical that he was gone for good.

"Well, he sounds like he was the center of all the fun," she forced a smile. "I am sorry I won't get to meet him and see for myself."

She was not sorry in the least.

* * *

A half-moon hung in the night sky. Jimmy yawned, and poked the fire. It blazed up, spilling sparks everywhere.

"Are you daft?" Alfred hissed, jumping to his feet. "You've got to be more careful!" He stamped out the sparks that flickered in the dirt. Though there was no grass where they had built the fire, he had to be sure there was no chance.

"By the gods," he slumped back down. "If we start a fire, the master will throw us both out. But maybe _you_ don't care. You're leaving soon enough, anyway."

Jimmy leaned back against the ash tree, his hands behind his head. "I am. And I won't miss much. Even including you, cousin." He laughed when Alfred moved to hit him. "I _will_ miss our fair mistress…I think I'll make sure to see her alone before I leave. _After_ I get my wages, o' course. Kissing her would be worth any smack she'd give me."

Groaning, Alfred punched his crook into the ground. "You're daft, _and_ and stupid," he said. "The master would never let you come back in the spring – and the mistress _really_ wouldn't."

"You never know," Jimmy whistled under his breath. "She might like my kisses better than his."

This time he winced when Alfred thumped him. "Shut it," his flame-haired cousin snapped. "I don't need to hear any more of this."

"Then why don't you go to bed?" Jimmy asked. "I've got the watch tonight, not you."

Stretching his legs out, Alfred looked up into the night sky. "I'm not tired."

Jimmy grinned at him. "I know why. You keep thinking about the mistress. There's no shame in it, admiring a beautiful woman-"

"I said shut it," Alfred felt his face grow warm. "She-she's _married_ , by the gods-"

"-curves like hers, and I haven't seen such fine tits since that girl I knew in Ainderby-"

"-and she and the master are happy together! Have you forgotten about Thomas? Or Edward? They'd smash your face in if they were here-"

"-gods, when she bites her lip it's like she's _trying_ to tease me-"

"Shhhh!" Alfred jumped to his feet. Jimmy tapped his crook against his legs.

"You really are hopeless. If you didn't like Ivy, I'd think you prefer lads-"

"I said _shut it_!" Alfred hissed, turning on Jimmy. "Someone's over there!"

"Where?" Jimmy glanced at the flock. One of the rams bleated, but the animals weren't moving. As he sat up, Vyr suddenly streaked north, in the direction of the stream.

"Watch the flock!" Alfred whispered, and followed after her.

Jimmy stood up, pacing. Freya ambled over to him. He noticed that her ears were up.

"What is it, girl? An intruder? Someone's after the sheep?" He clenched his hands around his crook. Despite his usual bravado, his mouth went dry. If it _was_ a thief lurking nearby, he and Alfred would have to stop him. The master was watching the other sheep on the hill, but he was too far away to help.

Alfred came back after what felt like forever.

"Nothing," he sighed. "I was _sure_ I saw someone this side of the stream, but when I went after him, by the time I got to Jacob's wall, he'd disappeared." He squinted up at the moon. "I wish it was full. Everything's in shadow over by the stream. The trees make you think every shadow is a man."

For once Jimmy did not make fun of him. He'd had to go prowling by the stream at night earlier in the summer, and he'd been more frightened by shadows than he cared to admit.

"Come on," he gestured back to the ash tree. "Have a skin of water before you go to bed. I've got some cheese left over, too. The mistress didn't make it," he smiled. "Emma did."

"Thanks," Alfred muttered gratefully. Jacob's wife never burned cheese like Mistress Elsie did.

They shared the cheese in silence. Alfred had just handed the water skin back to Jimmy when he heard Vyr howl. She was at the eastern edge of the meadow, bordering the abandoned land. Freya streaked past the sheep to join her daughter.

Then she howled too.

The animals stirred uneasily, and Jimmy suddenly shivered.

"Did you see that?" He whispered.

"See what?" Alfred looked towards where the dogs were, but his cousin pointed up.

"It's like…the stars just blinked, like someone covered them for a moment, then uncovered them again." Jimmy grabbed Alfred's arm. His fingers were cold.

The dogs kept howling, and the lads hurried to see why.

"I don't see anyone, do you?" Alfred muttered. He bent down, trying to comfort Vyr, but she kept right on howling. Behind them, on the distant hill, they heard Ve answer his daughter.

They stood looking for a long time. The night went on as if nothing was different.

If the dogs had not kept howling, it would have been peaceful.

"I don't see anyone. Or anything." Jimmy ran a hand through his hair. He turned back towards the flock, to check on them. The sheep had settled down again.

Alfred gasped.

"Look!"

He pointed south.

"What?" Jimmy grumbled. He stared in that direction until his eyes watered. "Oh…you're looking at that star? It's awfully bright, but it's nothing for the dogs to howl at."

Their cries were unnerving. The sound made the hair on his arms stand up. He shivered again.

"That-that's not a star," Alfred stuttered. "That's the mountain near Grey Lake, in Merton." He turned to his cousin, his eyes wide even in the dim light of the stars and half-moon. "It's on _fire_."

Jimmy felt his heart skip a beat. "That's impossible. It hasn't erupted in…well, in so long, scholars still fight over when it happened. _If_ it happened."

But as he continued to look, he saw what Alfred saw. A little flicker of red and orange burst over the top of the mountain that stood on the edge of the range in Merton. It looked no bigger than a flame on a single candle, but the distance from where they stood to Grey Lake was two days as the sparrow flew.

 _That is a lot of fire._

Jimmy thought of the stories he'd heard as a boy when he was supposed to be asleep. Of the people who used to live in the abandoned meadows, and the towns that once stood there.

 _Before the Master of Fire poured flame and hot ash from the mountain, and destroyed it all._

He had never believed the stories.

"Dad told me it was over a thousand years ago. When the mountain erupted last." Alfred huddled in his cloak as a breeze rustled the dry grass around them. "Who knows if that's true?"

"Well," Jimmy swallowed. "Whether it happened before or not, it's true now."


	83. The Volcano

**A/N: Rated M, because the Goddess is in a bit of a mood.**

* * *

Elsie was far away, drowned in slumber.

She knew she dreamed.

And yet this knowledge did not make her dream any less sweet.

 _Lush green grass in the meadow swayed in a fresh spring breeze. A lamb bawled, trailing after its mother._

 _Her heart lifted at the sight of Charles, who came over the hill towards her. His mouth was warm on hers. Leaning back from their kiss, she rested her hands on his broad shoulders._

" _Where are the children?"_

" _They're coming just now," his eyes twinkled. "The bread smells delicious."_

 _Four figures appeared on the edge of the meadow. Edward was bent over, miming, then he straightened up, smiling in Thomas's direction. Sybil laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. Tom floated above them before landing on the grass next to his wife. He kissed her on the cheek._

 _Someone else appeared over the hill – a lithe girl._

" _You forgot the bread!" Daisy called behind them, grinning. She held up two loaves._

 _When the others turned towards their sister, Elsie saw that there were not four figures, as she had first thought. A small child sat on Thomas's shoulders, held securely by the young man's hands._

 _ **Our child.**_

"Elsie?"

Charles's voice rumbled above her, intruding into her dream.

At first Elsie tried to cling to it.

 _No, no, I want to stay-I want to see-_

"Love, I'm sorry to wake you-"

Charles's fingers brushed her cheek.

 _Daisy ran up to Sybil, and the two embraced. Tom said something that made all of them laugh. Another high-pitched giggle joined them. It made Elsie's heart flood with love._

And her eyes with tears. She felt the sheepskin below her.

 _It was just a dream._

Thomas and Edward would never know Sybil's husband. Daisy had been there, and she was someone neither Elsie nor Sybil would ever see again.

"Alfred came and told me before he went to bed," Charles was saying. Elsie blinked, struggling to wake. "I thought about waiting until dawn, but you can see it easier now, whilst it's still dark."

The blanket was strung across the room, as it always was at night. Something cold and wet touched the back of Elsie's hand. She flinched.

It was Nosi, nudging her up. The dog whined.

"See what?" Elsie mumbled, kneeling naked on the sheepskin and scrambling for her tunic. Her mind was still halfway between dreams and waking as she tied her belt around her waist.

 _Sybil laughing with Edward, Daisy carrying bread, Thomas carrying our child…_

Nosi whined, louder. Then she barked. Urgently.

Charles winced at the noise. Leaning over, he patted the dog's head and shushed her, but he said nothing else.

Elsie found his hand in the dark as they stumbled up the hill. She shuddered under a huge yawn, her body protesting being yanked from sleep so suddenly.

Despite her fatigue, she was aware of Nosi. The dog trotted next to her, never more than a finger's width from the edge of her cloak. It was difficult to see their puppy, but her unease was clear. She trotted as though she was about to break into a run.

Vyr barked from the far side of the meadow. Charles shivered when she howled. "She's been doing that all night."

 _And I never heard her?_ Elsie thought. _I must have been in deep sleep._

They found Jimmy holding a torch, his face drawn, standing next to Vyr. "It's brighter now," he said to Elsie. He pointed with his crook to the southeast, without looking away from her. He ignored Charles's glare. "The mountain closest to us, on the edge of the range."

Far away, Elsie saw an orange spark, vivid against the blue-black sky.

She lost her breath.

 _Fire._

 _The mountain is on FIRE._

 _Victor…his temper rages like no one has seen in living memory._

For a moment, the world tilted and she thought she might faint.

She squeezed Charles's hand so hard the shepherd gasped. "Ow," he glanced down at her, breaking his gaze at Jimmy. She flexed her fingers and loosened her grip. "I know," he murmured, feeling her shiver. He squeezed her shoulder. "It was a shock when I saw it, too."

 _You do not know. Not really._

 _None of you know._

She wanted to talk to her husband, but knew she could not in front of Jimmy. "Alfred's seen it, then?" She asked, letting go of Charles and hugging herself. Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Yes," Jimmy said. "We both saw it last night, a little after moonrise. Who knows how long it's been going on…couldn't have been for long, or else we would've seen it sooner. The nights have been clear for ages. The dogs started making a racket. That's how we knew something was wrong."

 _They know, too. Even the pups._

Freya's fur stood on end, and even Ve was clearly agitated. He howled from the hill. Nosi rubbed against Elsie's feet, and the shepherdess picked up the dog, wanting to comfort her. Charles squeezed Elsie's shoulder, then turned to look over the flock. The sheep were restless.

There was only one reason Elsie could think of that would stoke the Fire God's ire enough to wake the ancient volcano beneath the mountain.

 _Me._

He had been jealous of the Messenger during her affair with the younger god, she knew. And it was Victor who had dragged her and Marcas to the Hall long before.

She might not be the cause of his anger now, she mused. Once, her vanity would have convinced her that she was the cause of _everything_ , good or bad. It was a sign of her own importance. She had become aware in time that this was not always true.

But she could not shake the sensation that she was at the root of Victor's fury once again.

Nosi whimpered, and Elsie let her go. Her hands were cold with nothing to hold on to. But part of her was glad of the space, just for a moment.

The tiny flame in her vision, which she knew was not tiny at all, consumed her thoughts.

 _Victor might know about Charles._

 _But how? We have been SO careful…_

Had they been as careful as they knew they had to be? Elsie wondered, biting her lip. Doubt gnawed at her.

 _It only takes one spark. One ember in the ashes._

What was to be done?

She yanked a hand through her hair, ignoring both its tangles and Jimmy's hungry stare.

It seemed beyond insane to wait and see what Victor would do, where he would send the fire.

 _You_ _know_ _where he will send it. Not to Crowborough._

Swallowing back guilt, her belly churned. The people in Merton were certainly suffering at that very moment – and it was all her fault.

 _You do not know that. It could be something else. Something, or someone else, could have ignited his rage._

 _It_ _ **could**_ _._

 _If Victor does not hold himself back, you cannot be blamed for it!_

 _Even if_ **I** _am the reason he erupts?_

 _The reason matters little at a time like this,_ she argued with herself. _What can be_ _done_ _to stop him?_

 _Tom would know._

 _Tom's not here._

 _Sybil might know. But what can she do, while in mortal form?_

 _She won't leave the court. Not now. She won't leave her brothers, or Lady Mary._

Of one thing Elsie was absolutely certain.

 _I will not leave my husband. Charles._

 _I will protect him and our family. Sybil, Thomas, Edward…_

 _Our baby._

Another thought drew all the air from her body, as though she'd been punched with the blunt end of a spear.

 _What if Victor knows about our child!?_

The shock of what the Fire God would do with such news – beyond what he was already doing – made Elsie's knees buckle. She swayed on her feet.

Her fingers clutched air. Charles had moved away several steps, watching over the sheep. His diligence in his calling was admirable, but at that moment, Elsie felt a pressing need for him to be close. For her to touch his hand, feel his warm skin, the blood pumping through his veins. To know that life still hummed within him.

The life within her was, as yet, too small to be known through any physical manifestation.

"Try not to worry, Mistress," Jimmy said. He took a step closer to Elsie. The mistress was unusually quiet, he thought. Her colorful hair was dull beneath the dim light of the stars, and he could not look into the depths of her blue eyes, but he could still make out her shape. He licked his lips.

 _Stunning._

 _No one like her, anywhere._

"Alfred already went to Downton to tell the priestesses. They'll know what to do, which scholars to send for." His fingers curved around her outstretched arm. "I'm here, I won't let anything happen to you-"

His boldness shook the cobwebs from Elsie's mind and focused her attention.

"I do not ask for your protection, James," she said through her teeth. _Not that you could give me any._ "Or for your touch."

Jimmy hesitated, his grip loosening. His emotions battled themselves – lust, fear of crossing a line, exhilaration that he was touching her.

Elsie felt all of it.

"Take your hand off me," she said, her voice low. " _Now_."

In an instant, Nosi leaped at the apprentice, snarling wildly. Jimmy let go of Elsie, lost his balance and fell backward onto the ground.

A heartbeat later, Charles was hovering above him with a face like thunder.

"How _dare_ you-you have no right-"

"I was just trying to comfort the mistress," Jimmy scrambled backwards on his elbows, trying to keep out of the reach of Nosi's teeth. "I swear-"

 _You were taking advantage of me._ Elsie wanted to chastise him further. Instead she flung an arm in front of Charles. Her husband was angry enough to spit fire himself, if he had had it in him.

For Jimmy's sake Elsie was glad he did not.

"Leave this instant," Charles growled. "Get off my land. You are dismissed. You will not receive _one_ gold piece further from me."

"M-master," the lad pleaded, his eyes wide. "Please, I was wrong, I'm sorry…don't send me away, not yet."

Elsie knew it was the right thing to do. Jimmy had overstepped himself – more than once – and he was leaving them soon anyway.

But though she was angry, she also felt sorry for the lad.

 _ **Gods**_ _can scarce keep themselves from me, let alone mortals! Especially now. Of course he would try to lay a hand on me, as soon as he saw a chance._

Jimmy was a shallow lad. But he did not wish her real harm, she knew.

"Let him stay," she said to Charles. "He was wrong, yes, and he will lose wages for it. But let him stay until the end of the harvest moon, like you had agreed this summer." Her husband bristled, shaking his head. She brushed the bottom of his dimpled chin with her finger, drawing his gaze to hers. "Please."

His anger dissolved out of him.

"Very well," he grumbled, turning back to the young man sprawled on the ground. "You may stay. Thank the mistress for her mercy."

"Thank you," whispered Jimmy. He did not look up at Elsie.

"Remember your place while you're here. One word, one move out of line, and you _will_ be gone," the shepherd gestured to the sheep. "Take the watch until midday."

Jimmy's shoulders slumped, but he did not make a sound in protest. He shuffled to his feet still taking care to keep out of Nosi's way.

"Stay," Elsie told the dog. She slid her hand from Charles's chin to his chest. "Take me back to the house."

He berated himself all the way across the meadow. The way she held onto him, her hand gripped securely through his arm, unnerved him.

 _ **She**_ _is usually strong for me._

 _She is frightened. More afraid than I have ever seen her._

He couldn't blame her for that. His first sight of the distant volcano had been one of wonder, and even awe of its beauty beneath the night sky.

Until he thought of the consequences of what it meant. His hands were still shaking.

It was very dark in the house. Elsie took no chances, taking the half-full bucket of water and dousing the ashes of the hearth fire. She stared at it for a long while, looking for any traces of light.

There were none.

She sighed and folded herself into Charles's arms, her head beneath his chin. He could not tell if she held him up, or if he held her up. She cried, tears seeping into his tunic. Searching for words.

"Does the Fire God know about us?" He whispered into her hair, unable to bear her silence. "Is that why the mountain erupted?"

She choked back another sob. "I don't know. What I _do_ know is that he will not stop until someone stronger stops him – or his rage burns itself out."

"Is that what happened before? When the fire burned the abandoned meadows? He just – stopped being angry?" Charles was confused. He did not want to think about what Elsie meant about 'someone stronger'.

"Yes." Closing her eyes, she listened to the faster beat of his heart. She rubbed his back.

 _Victor put out the flames himself. He had had enough – but his ire was never directed towards the mortals to begin with._

 _He wanted me, greatest treasure of the Realm, but I took no notice of him._

 _Until he ensnared me and Marcas in a net, dragging us from bed to the Hall._

It was strange to think of those days. She had been so different.

One moment she and her then-lover had been locked in a passionate embrace; the next, they had been entangled in Victor's net. She still remembered Marcas laughing, his handsome face gleaming.

" _The Master Blacksmith is angry," he said, not bothering to lower his voice. Bending his head, he brushed his lips over the spot between her breasts. The net made it impossible for either of them to move very much. "He needs to find a nymph, a dryad – or a demigod or a young man," he mused. "Whatever his taste." He glanced over his shoulder at the God of Fire. "Old friend, I am sorry you have not found a place to stick_ your _precious poker. But is that any reason keep me from my pleasure with my Lady?"_

 _Marcas was not sorry at all. Victor growled, but only continued plodding on, dragging them behind him one handed, his hammer in his other hand._

 _The God of War continued. "You are fortunate that she pleased me well_ _ **before**_ _you so rudely interrupted us. Else I would be angry with you." He tried to move again, but the mesh of Victor's net held him fast. "Sweetling, could you move your leg – no, not there, unless you want me again. I could manage, even tangled as we are," he smirked. "Try not to moan too loud, lest the Master of Fire lose his temper again!"_

With hindsight, Elsie knew that was the beginning of the end of her affair with Marcas.

 _Everything was always about_ _him_ _. He cared nothing about Victor. And he only cared about me as long as I gave him what he wanted. And the pride he felt over having me as his lover._

The ardor she had once felt for the God of War was like having a lock of her hair shorn off. Now she felt only the distant shadow of what had once been there.

 _With Marcas, it was always about pleasure. Impatience._

 _Greed._

 _We were selfish. Both of us._

What she felt for her husband went into every part of her being. With Charles, the connection between them went so much deeper. She had felt that for a long time.

Sitting by him as they shared a meal. A shared glance over Stephen's head as Charles taught the boy how to be a shepherd. Laughing with their grown children when they were home. Comforting each other as they mourned Daisy.

Understanding without words.

They both took their vows seriously when it came to pleasure, of course. She felt the familiar ache of desire whisper through her as they stood so close together. But it was so much more than that. That was why she cried.

 _This is love. Truly. I never knew it before I came here. Before I knew Charles._

 _Wanting him myself, but doing what is best for him. Being here for him. Protecting him._

 _When we will have to part, what will it be like?_

 _Not at all like cutting a lock of hair._

 _He is my heart._

The volcano's eruption was like a dagger held at her throat – a reminder that, as much as she loved being in mortal form, she could not forget who she was and where she had come from.

And where she would have to return to.

"What do we do?" Charles murmured, his lips at her hairline. "Besides hoping that he stops again?"

What could they do, he thought helplessly.

"Do you think you could talk to him again?" He asked. "Like you did in Loftus?"

She was shaking her head before all the words had left his mouth. "No. This is different…it is too dangerous. I cannot risk him seeing me _here_ , in our home-"

 _Carrying your child._

She bit her lip, stopping the words from tumbling out. She longed to tell him, but she could feel him shaking, how frightened he was. The last thing she wanted was to add to his burdens.

Even a joyous burden.

 _He would not let me out of his sight if he knew. And he would not be able to keep the news to himself._

 _The fewer people know for now, the better._

Elsie thought ahead quickly. If she carried their child like a mortal woman, like she suspected, she would not begin to have the signs of the child until near the time that Anna would give birth. Near the middle of autumn, near the time when Ve and Freya's pups had been born.

 _Surely Victor's anger will have burned out by then._

The Fire God was terrifying in his wrath. But he was also known to end his anger as quickly as it started. Elsie hoped, that whatever had caused him to lose his temper, he would revert to his usual pattern. It felt weak to hope for such a thing but it was all she could cling to.

Until she could think of a better plan.

They undressed and laid down again in an attempt to sleep, not touching. Neither one spoke. Charles was afraid to – he could practically feel the waves of tension rolling off him, and he had no wish to add to Elsie's fear. It was bad enough that he knew she could feel his trembling hands clutching the blanket.

"Hold me, please," his wife whispered.

He swallowed. _I am nothing. Just a man, with hands that betray how frightened I am. What real comfort can I give you?_

 _I have to try._

At first she was stiff, her back against his chest as they usually did. She pulled his arms around her. A lump formed in his throat.

 _She said once that this was her favorite place. In my arms._

He tucked his chin over her shoulder, glad to feel her relax. She sighed.

Elsie felt some of her fears lessen, soothed by Charles's warmth and his heartbeat. The image of the volcano was still clear in her mind, but it was rapidly being replaced by her growing desire. She fought it.

 _No, not_ _ **now**_ _, he needs to sleep! He had the watch last night-_

His nose brushed her temple, and he pressed a soft kiss against her cheek.

Desire overwhelmed Elsie like a flood.

One moment Charles was lying on his side, behind her; in the next, she pulled him around her, rolling him onto his back before she rolled once more. He grunted in surprise to find himself chest to chest with his wife, him on top, in less time than it took to take a breath.

Few mortal women, if any, would have been able to pull someone his size over her shoulder and rolled the two of them over and over, like lads wrestling at the competition.

Let alone one-handed.

 _No one can do that._

 _Except someone immortal._

He tried to push himself upright, to give her a little space, but he had scarcely taken another breath before her arms hooked through his. Her body rising, her mouth exploring his collarbone, her teeth grazing the hollow in his throat. Her foot slid up his calf.

Gooseflesh rose on his back as her fingers found their way lower. He groaned aloud, taking the opportunity to plunge his hands into her soft hair.

"G-goddess," he murmured.

 _Enchantress._

She suddenly pulled back from their kiss. Her hands stilled. All of her stilled, and he felt her hesitation.

"Elsie?" Her breath puffed against his throat.

She made a sound. He could not be sure, but it was like she choked back a sob. "I am being selfish," she whispered. "You need rest, not me forcing myself on you."

He touched his forehead to hers. "I'm not complaining. And I am on _you_."

In the dim light he saw her mouth twitch, as if to keep back a laugh. She bit her lip. "You do not have to…you could say no. I would still love you. I always will."

 _I know_ , he thought. It was not just her physical strength that reminded him of who she was, it was also her restraint. Despite her longing for him.

Cupping her face, he kissed her gently. "But I want to help you. Comfort you, as much as I can." He ignored the tremor in his hand. "I am frightened and you are too."

"I am."

It filled him with awe that she would be so open with him. Admit her fears, silently asking for reassurance.

 _She is my wife. I am her husband._

He took a deep breath. "You asked me to hold you. I am glad to do that. If you need a bit more…holding, I can do that, too. I could never sleep well if I knew you were upset."

"Oh Charles," she sighed, and his belly flipped at the sound of her saying his name. When she ran her hands across his lower back to his hips, his breath caught in his throat. "Charles," she murmured, "You are a diamond among stones, my love. How am _I_ fortunate enough to be the one to receive your love?"

 _Her receiving_ _ **MY**_ _love?_

It was a struggle to find words.

"How could I not love you?" he asked. " _I_ am the fortunate one. You could have anyone, anyone at all, and you choose to be with me." When his lips found her favorite spot below her ear, she shivered.

"I-I wonder about it at times," she cleared her throat, and he grinned as he continued marking a trail down her neck. Her skin tasted like fresh berries in summer, the sweetness bursting in his mouth. "I have always been partial to you, of course, but until I saw you that day at the shrine-" Her breath hitched under his attention. "I did not know _you_ were the one. The one who brings out the woman in me. And- _oh_ , you do that well-" She pulled his hair.

"What?" he teased, swirling his tongue along her jawline. "Bringing out the woman? Or kissing you?"

"Both, you incorrigible man." Playfully, she pushed his face to the side. "I should have made sure you had more humility." In truth, he was a humble man, and they both knew it. He kissed her palm.

"You ensured my very existence. I've no doubt you brought my parents together."

She did laugh then, and it was a balm to his heart. "I did, and theirs before them, and the ones before them…" Lifting her head, she kissed him on the mouth.

"My heart was always yours," he gasped in between kisses. "Always. And it always will be."

His fears and fatigue had not disappeared; they were merely muffled, like hearing the voice of someone underwater.

Little else mattered when Elsie kissed him like that.

The feel of her body against his would have aroused him even if he was half dead from fever.

 _Loving her is not like sickness…it is health. Life._

 _What I was meant to do._

He tried to move slowly, to cherish her, but her whispered words spurred him on.

"Husband," she breathed into his mouth. "My heart, I need you."

 _ **I**_ _need you,_ his mind screamed. _I need you like air._

 _More._

Panting, he gripped her strong shoulders. Her skin was warm. He slid a hand down to her hip and further to her thigh, but she stopped his movement.

He tried to move his hand but she held his wrist fast. His thumb wriggled. _So close…_

"No." Her voice was clear. His other hand was pinned between the blanket and her shoulder. He felt her move, further wedging it in place.

And he knew what she wanted. They had done this before.

A beat passed. Then another.

Her breaths came fast, as fast as his.

Sometimes he gave in first; sometimes she did.

This time, he did.

"Wife," he begged, "If you want me, you can have me."

"I do want you. _Al_ ways…" Moaning, she took him.

Her legs spread wider around his hips and her fingernails clawed his back. Drawing him in closer.

How she _did_ that, he didn't know. With her, he was whole.

Always.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he shouted, his body melded to hers.

Her warmth increased until it bordered on hot – but not hot enough to be uncomfortable. The glow beneath her skin reflected on his face. She shuddered. Cries exploded from her, high and loud in his ears.

Giving herself to him, as she had done before. Tears pricked his eyes.

 _All that I am, for the time we have together, is yours. But even all of me is not wholly mine…you have given me everything. My life, my heart, my home._

 _My goddess._

Dawn broke outside.

They lay gasping beneath the blanket, their skin glistening with sweat despite the cool air. A drop of moisture dripped from his curly hair onto her cheek, and he brushed his index finger against the flushed skin at the corner of her mouth to capture it. She kissed the tip of his finger. Sucked his fingers.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing a long kiss on her forehead.

"I love you." Her voice was little more than a murmur.

He settled himself in her arms, the sound of her hum and the birds chattering outside lulling him into slumber.

* * *

They both woke late in the morning when Nosi came back into the house. Both were rather muddled from the lack of sleep. Charles set down the bucket after gathering water from the well. Elsie kneaded dough, her expression like a blank wall. She did not need to explain why.

The hearth fire was suddenly an enemy crouched between them, in the middle of their home.

 _But we must have a fire burning…at least during the day!_

There was a long silence.

"Are you well?" He asked, picking up a fig and chewing on it. He wanted to ask more clearly but did not dare to. She glanced up with her eyebrows together. "You look flushed this morning. I...hope it's not fever."

Her skin had been warmer while they made love. It was not something he remembered happening before. And though she was the goddess, she was not immune from mortal ailments. She had sprained her ankle on the first day they met.

"It isn't fever." She did not look at him, but continuing pressing her knuckles into the fresh dough. Her cheeks, if anything, seemed to darken.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. If I am not feeling well, I will _tell_ you," she said shortly, then gave him a small smile. She brushed flour from her hands. "Alfred went to the village last night? To the temple, to tell them about the volcano? That's what James said."

"Yes." He was a bit thrown by her sudden change in conversation. He would have thought she did not want to talk about the volcano at all. He knew _he_ didn't.

"Alfred told me he'd spoken to Priestess Violet," he went on. "No doubt she sent a message to the king right away."

"So Thomas will likely know about it by now." She turned away to look out the window, her hands on her hips.

It was obvious to Charles that when she said _Thomas_ she really meant _Sybil_. His heart skipped a beat when he thought of his stepdaughter – this news would be almost as shocking to her as it was to her mother. "It's just as well," Elsie turned. "I meant to write a letter."

"He'll write to us." _She_. "There should be news coming from the court soon anyway, about Lady Mary."

Charles could not stop looking at the hearth fire. How many days and nights since he and Elsie married that it had burned? What if Elsie's fears were confirmed, and the Fire God was in a rage because of her - and because of him?

What if it was his fault?

All of his fears that had been held at bay rushed through him. His hands trembled, and he clasped them together.

"I am going to see Jacob," he said finally. "He asked at the Harvest Festival if he might buy one of the goat's kids."

Nodding, Elsie took the broom from its place against the wall. "Send him and Emma my greetings. I want to visit her soon."

"I'll tell her." Charles hovered in the doorway, then strode out, his heart heavy. He hated that they could not speak openly. And he was sure his wife felt the same.

He had gone around the goat pen and was climbing the hill when he heard her call his name. He stopped by the stream (little more than a brown trickle) as Elsie ran to catch up, her hands holding her skirts.

"What is it?" He asked.

The late morning sun sparkled through the colors of her hair, and illuminated the lines on her face. Some of them he hadn't noticed before.

 _She is so beautiful…_

She took his outstretched hand, breathing hard. "I wanted to tell you…that I love you," she said, breathless.

"I love you, too," he answered, raising his eyebrows. Standing there panting, one hand on her chest, she was stunning. It was all he could do to keep from picking her up and carrying her back to the house.

Instead he kissed her, lifting her chin.

She kissed him back.

It went on, and on.

They broke apart when a chattering sparrow chirped from a nearby tree. "Go," she murmured, pushing on his chest. Her eyes were dark. "You have to see Jacob, and I have to watch the flock."

"Right." Licking his lips, he looked everywhere but at her, to distract him. "I will see you this evening."

At the top of the hill, he looked down at the roof of the house. Something nagged him. Elsie seemed…not herself, but then that was not very surprising. He felt on edge.

Jimmy paced near the ash tree on the far side of the meadow, yawning. Freya's ears were up. She and Vyr were quiet. It was difficult to see under the bright sun and the far distance, but when he squinted, Charles could see the volcano.

 _What does it mean?_

A cold chill shivered down his back, and he pulled his cloak tighter around him as he crossed the fields to Jacob's house.

* * *

 **A/N 2: It's been way too long...real life intruded, in more than one way and I found myself in a bit of a personal *winter*. Fortunately now that spring is FINALLY here (in real life), I can get back to Winter.** **Make sense? Clear as mud, as a friend says. :)**

 **This chapter was a struggle...and that is saying something, since it's 95% Chelsie. There is _so much_ going on with, well, everyone. But I simply could not start the super-intricate plot dance before addressing both Charles and Elsie's reactions to the volcano. I am not entirely happy with the decisions (or lack thereof) that they make, but the choices they make now are in large part formed by what has already happened. (Like, um, pregnancy)**

 **I've been terrible about not responding to reviews but rest assured, I do read them. Frequently. During breaks at work and at three in the morning. Please do leave a review if you have time. Thank you!**

 **Next up: Back at the court, news of the volcano and other things. A look into the temple and the priestesses too.**


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